


be careful what you wish ('cause you just might get it)

by Unicornsandrainbows



Series: Be careful what you wish [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Trans Jaskier | Dandelion, i just like him and i'm trans so i made him trans too, it's not plot relevant at all, jaskier is a slut, post-episode s1e5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 30,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23829583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unicornsandrainbows/pseuds/Unicornsandrainbows
Summary: in retrospect, Jaskier isn't sure why he has followed Geralt of bloody Rivia around for half of his life. What he does know, though, is that Yennefer is right about one thing: he deserved better, and from now on he won't settle for less than he deserves, even if Geralt does come crawling back to him eventually. He's the best bard on the continent, he's still youthful and attractive in his late thirties, and, after a bit of practice, not only capable of taking care of himself, but also a worthy travel companion to the strongest sorceress he knows. And it's not like he has impossible standards either - he just wants to be treated with respect, be valued as a person and sometimes complimented and spoiled a little.---After the dragon mountain, Yennefer and Jaskier bond over being pissed at Geralt, become best friends and learn to take care of themselves properly. When Geralt finally finds them again, he has to learn a lot about efficiently communicating his emotions before either of them allow him back into their lives.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Be careful what you wish [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726543
Comments: 97
Kudos: 397
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThomasTheMemeEngine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomasTheMemeEngine/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quarantine gave me and my roommate absolute witcher brain rot. I'll try to update at least once a week, but since time has lost all meaning it won't be on a specific day. 
> 
> Also, the first chapter is mostly just a retelling of events from the netflix series, but i bent the timeline to fit my needs. the style will be a bit different and there will be less time skips in future chapters.

Jaskier is on his way back to Oxenfurt because that’s where Geralt thinks he is and he misses his stupid witcher and knows that he might look for him at the city. Usually, he returns to Oxenfurt during the winter to teach at the Academy for a few months and earn some coin while staying warm and well-fed while his witcher fucks off further north to some forgotten ruin to hibernate, or whatever it is witchers actually do in their keep. Jaskier has tried to ask about that a few times, at the beginning, before he figured out that it's pointless. The only answer he's ever got to Kaer Morhen related questions is a very specific, sort of disgruntled “hmm“.

This winter, he didn't go to Oxenfurt like he usually does, because he got an invitation to spend the winter with Countess de Stael in Toussaint. Toussaint is mild, even in the winter months, and famous for its wine. And if he could choose to be paid for drinking wine and fucking – or being fucked by – a very hot lady rather than spending the meagre coin teaching earned him on his own, way worse wine in Oxenfurt, well, he'd have to be an idiot to decline such an offer.

So he hasn't been to Oxenfurt, but he hasn’t told Geralt about that, either, because the invitation had only reached him after they had split ways already. And now he has to hurry and go north as fast as he can before Geralt passes through Oxenfurt and disappears into the void, never to be seen again. Or at least not for the better part of the year, until he makes his trip back north.

He has planned his departure carefully (and then got kicked out by the countess a day early), tried to time it so that he'll be ready to leave Oxenfurt again around the time he usually does so Geralt won't miss him too much. If his gruffy friend even misses him over the winter, that is. Jaskier is pretty sure that the witcher has started to see him as a friend – or a good acquaintance at the very least – around the five year anniversary of their meeting, even if he never says it out loud. Since then, they spent every year at least partly traveling together, finding each other seemingly without trying during spring. Jaskier has a hunch that Geralt does actually look for him, year after year, making sure they don't miss each other, just like Jaskier is right now. It's an endearing thought.

To make the Journey both faster and easier he travelled with a merchant for most of the way – the man was going from Toussaint to Carrera and dropped him off at the city, easily cutting the way Jaskier has to walk in half. From there on he went towards Rinde, where he plans to turn west and follow the Pontar to Oxenfort. It isn't a bad travelling plan, in fact he was pretty sure that he's able to reach Rinde before the sun sets, unless he managed to get very, very lost without even realizing it. 

Walking is beginning to be really, really boring, so he starts to sing to himself. There's no one within earshot that he can annoy right now, it's a rather safe road and the sun is up, so why should he deny himself the small pleasures of traveling alone? He sings, and he thinks, and continues walking.  
When he spots a small lake, he decides that this is the perfect place for a short lunch break.  
He's getting hungry, and a bit tired, a mix that makes him irritable. Even without a travelling companion, he doesn't fancy souring his own mood. His rations are running low, though. He'll have to buy some bread and cured meats in Rinde; for now, some dried fruits and nuts will have to do.  
Jaskier is about to plop down on a patch of grass when he spots a man standing at the water. A very, very bulky man with very, very white hair, apparently fishing.

„Geralt?“, he asks while approaching the guy. There really isn't anyone else who that could be, it's a redundant question, but he didn't really think that he'd meet his witcher so soon, at a random lake between Carrera and Oxenfurt. But, sure enough, it's him, and if his grunts are anything to go by, he's in an especially grumpy mood. Oh well, Jaskier is used to talking to himself when conversing with the great Geralt of Rivia, and this time isn't any different. He chatters about his winter, and rambles about fish, and desperately tries – and fails – to understand why on earth Geralt would want a djinn just to get some fucking sleep, and then Geralt finds the fucking djinn, and everything just goes downhill from there.

Jaskier doesn't remember what exactly Geralt wishes for, but there's a sharp pain in his throat, and his voice is gone. Instead, he spits out a mouthful of blood when he tries to speak. Geralt looks at him with wide eyes, shock replacing his usual frown.

They ride to Rinde, which is apparently even closer than Jaskier thought, and all he can remember is the face of an elven healer, a room filled with naked people, and a scary witch with purple eyes, then he's out cold.

\---

When he sees Geralt fucking the scary witch not five minutes after the whole djinn fiasco is over Jaskier is about ready to just leave them behind and flee to Oxenfurt, mostly because that’s where he usually fucks off to when he isn’t with his witcher. But then the elf, who is very obviously into Yennefer, invites him to his place and it would be ungrateful to just leave the guy who helped with saving his life, so he sticks around to chat for a bit, and a short talk turns into a nice long talk, so long that the sun goes down and they're still talking, though now in the comfort of Chireadan's home. At some point Chireadan procures a bottle of wine and Jaskier allows himself to relax. It's quite nice to not be dying, and also to have someone to talk with who is both interesting and actually answering his questions.

“So, what do you plan to do now that you made it out of this alive?“, Chireadan asks eventually.

Jaskier gives a dry chuckle. “Wait for Geralt to stop fucking your very scary crush and continue following him around I guess.“

It sounds pathetic, even to himself. When has he started to follow his love around like a lost puppy? He can get almost everyone else on the continent, and instead his heart picks the one guy who just doesn’t look at him.

“Ouch. No need to wound me like that…. Though, it seems my crush is fucking your love?” Chiredean’s smirk is as sad as a smirk can get, and Jaskier feels for the elf. Drinking with an almost stranger while the people you love are busy with each other is a unique kind of pain, and though Jaskier is far from innocent, or monogamous, right now he does feel jealousy. He wants a distraction, someone he can throw his heart at for a night without any consequences. He might as well try to get it on with his host.

“Hm. Seems like it. Maybe we should just do our own fucking?”

It’s not his smoothest line, and he knows it, but he’s drunk and Chireadan doesn’t seem to mind his bluntness, if his surprised smile is anything to go by.

“Good thinking, bard. I’ll get us more wine, you go ahead and get comfortable.”

It’s nice, both sleeping with Chireadan and sleeping in an actual bed again. He’s confused for a second by Jaskier’s lack of dick, but when he gets to choose a dildo from the small traveling collection Jaskier has with him just in case instead, he’s delighted. Jaskier loses himself in wine and pleasure, and just for one night he can stop thinking about Geralt.

\---

Geralt finds him the next morning, and without even asking where Jaskier was traveling when he found him he tells the bard to come with him for another contract. Jaskier doesn't have the willpower to decline when Geralt looks at him with an oddly soft expression in his eyes.

\------------------------------------------

It's late afternoon when they reach a small village. They stop at the notice board, but none of the jobs require a witcher. Jaskier seems ready to continue walking until dusk, when there's just enough daylight left for him to see enough to help with setting up camp, but instead Geralt leads them to the small tavern. The bard raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't comment. Geralt just suppresses a small smile by turning to Roach. After almost killing his bard, the man deserves to sleep in a proper bed. Sure, he seems fine, but Geralt knows that Jaskier can smile through just about anything and has the risk awareness of a toddler, so it's up to him to make sure that just this once someone is taking care of Jaskier. He just hopes that the tavern in a village this small actually has a guest room, otherwise they'd have to settle for a place in a barn. It would still be more comfortable than camping, and he'd be able to let Jaskier sing without worrying about the bard attracting any monsters with his song.

They do, in fact, have a guest room. The barkeep seems a bit nervous about Geralt's presence, but when he spots Jaskier's lute his face lights up. Geralt is still not over the reaction people have to Jaskier. The man seems to brighten peoples' days just by existing. Then he remembers the joy he feels every time they meet again, and how he misses his bard during the winters in Kaer Mohren every year – so much that he left earlier this year, in fact, and had travelled towards Oxenfurt to meet Jaskier sooner than they usually would. He's not immune to the charm of his companion either it seems.

After paying and ordering each of them an ale, he turns to face Jaskier again. Big, blue eyes stare at him, a weird mix of confusion and suspicion apparent on his face. Geralt sighs, despite almost dying not two days ago Jaskier had obviously expected that they'd continue with their usual harsh travelling routine. He tries to smile a little to wipe that expression off of his face but fails hopelessly. If anything, Jaskier raises his eyebrow a bit higher, so Geralt drops the smile and tries to use his words instead.

„Why don't you play something? I'll take care of Roach, then I'll be back to listen to you, and then we can get something to eat.“ 

Geralts voice sounds unsure, even to himself. He doesn't know how to do this. He's not god at taking care of people who aren't dying, who don't really depend on him, and he's even worse with words. But Jaskier deserves some sort of apology for almost being killed by him. There's also the fact that the way Jaskier beams at him at those words does something funny to his heart that he refuses to examine any closer.

Instead he goes out to Roach, removing her tack after taking her to the small, but clean stable. He gives her some oats and an apple, as a treat, because apparently spoiling his companions is his thing now. When he gets back inside Jaskier is already singing some song that has half the tavern singing along, clapping and stomping their feet as rhythmically as a bunch of farmers are capable of. Jaskier looks happy, and again there's that small tug at his heart. He sits down at a table in the corner and stares at Jaskier, whose eyes are sparkling despite the dim lights.

\----------------------------------------

During the following weeks Jaskier figures out the secret to being treated decently by Geralt: just let the man almost kill you on accident. They set up camp before it's dark every night. The complaints about his singing are minimal, and only occur when Geralt is concerned for their safety. When Jaskier whines about walking all day, Geralt pulls him up into Roach's saddle with him for a while. They stop at inns where they can, and Geralt lets him slip into the bath tub before him instead of after, when the water is still clean and steaming hot. It's still the bard who's washing both of them carefully, but still, this is huge. Jaskier isn't sure how to deal with any of it. His poor, weak heart can't deal with Geralt's soft smirks when he's performing in a tavern, or the gentle glances Geralt throws him when he thinks that the bard isn't looking. He doesn't know what to do with the obvious signs of care.

He knows that it's probably just because Geralt feels guilty about almost killing him with a wish, and not because he suddenly had a change of heart and realized that he likes – maybe even loves – his bard. The problem is that while Jaskier knows this, his heart doesn't particularly care. He has been attracted to Geralt from the very beginning, and while he buried any hopes of them being more than just friends long ago, this new, softer Geralt was making it so, so hard not to dream about what could be.

He wants this to last. Not necessarily the parts that are just about comfort – he has learned to live without staying at inns at every opportunity, and to go without baths for days on end while they're traveling. He's okay with that. What he really wants to last is the easy camaraderie that they fall into. For the first time in years he doesn't feel like he's holding Geralt back with his presence, and he tries his hardest to do nothing that would upset the witcher. Everything feels new and unstable, so Jaskier tiptoes around Geralt. Geralt, in return, seems to think that he's still not forgiven for almost killing him when Jaskier isn't his usual loud, obnoxious self, and continues being so fucking sweet. It's a bit exhausting, but so, so worth it when Geralt holds him close while they're both on Roach.

And while Jaskier is floating in confused happiness and the quality bonding time he gets with his witcher, he just can't be bothered to use his brain power and try to figure out what any of this means for them, or their future, or how he still doesn’t know what the witcher really thinks about him besides possibly feeling guilty. Even if they’ll never have more than this, maybe following a grumpy man around for almost twenty years was worth it for this.

\---

They’ve been continuously traveling north for weeks. Geralt isn’t treating him with quite as much care anymore, obviously no longer scared that Jaskier will drop dead the second he turns his back to the bard, but they’re still so much friendlier with each other than they’ve ever been. Sure, they still say objectively mean things to each other in just about every conversation they have, but it feels more like friendly jabs now. They’re making fun of themselves as much often as they laugh about the other, and sometimes Geralt actually listens to Jaskier’s requests, which in turn makes him more considerate about when to play music at which volume. Jaskier isn’t sure if his heart could handle it if they ever went back to how they were before.

\---

Spring has turned into summer. It’s warm enough to sit on a rock in his red little jacket while he’s watching Roach and the two men who hired Geralt to slay some sort of monster for them. He’s been sitting there for an hour now, trying to compose a new song, and he’s starting to get a bit worried, though only partly about Geralt. The other part of him worries about Geralt’s current employers, a justified worry as they seem to grow more and more impatient. It’s distracting, and he’s not really making any progress, and the men aren’t exactly helping either – they simply ignore him whenever he asks for their opinion. Oh well, he’ll have to figure this one out by himself, like every other song before this.

“It’s been an hour. Let’s get on before the beast gets hungry again” one of the men finally says.

“But we made a deal.”

“We made a deal with a living witcher. No sense in hanging around to pay a dead one.”

Jaskier tries to ignore them, too, but then they start to take Roach’s saddle bags and he can’t just ignore that. He tries to stop them with words and is about ready to just kick one of them in the shins as hard as he can when two very beautiful women appear and his brain short-circuits. One of them snaps the man’s neck before his eyes and he can’t help but think that it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen aside from Geralt’s fighting. But then Geralt insults him in a way that doesn’t feel like their usual banter and more like their old actual insults, and Jaskier realizes he’s in a terrible mood.

It’s scary, really. He has forgotten how much it hurts when his best friend tries his hardest to make himself completely unlikeable.

\---

Jaskier is trying to get Geralt to agree to the hunt. It would make an excellent song, maybe even a saga, and after a bunch of contracts that were boring and didn’t bring much coin a treasure and a good adventure is what they need. Even if that means that the bard has to face Téa and Véa again and again after calling one of them ‘a sexy goose’ which was quite possible the worst attempt at flirtation he had made in his entire life.

It’s strangely upsetting to see how easily Geralt agrees to the hunt once Yennefer enters the picture. For some reason it almost feels like jealousy – but why on earth would he be jealous of Yennefer now? For all he knew they fucked once, and yet somehow her presence persuades Geralt to agree to this readily when Jaskier’s arguments and his best puppy dog eyes have failed.

At least they’ll get their adventure. Jaskier repeats that in his head like an endless mantra, and it helps calming him down and stops him from hating Yennefer for no reason besides existing in his vicinity.

\---

The trek up the mountains is painful for all the wrong reasons. Sure, it’s a challenging hike, especially once they get so far that the paths aren’t stable enough for the horses anymore and they have to carry everything they need themselves. Jaskier’s blisters have blisters and his whole body is sore by the second night. But the physical pain is nothing compared to the special kind of torture that is watching Yennefer and Geralt interact as if they were old friends while Jaskier gets ignored for the most part.

Geralt has often been an objectively shit friend. He has disappeared in the middle of the night more than once, he pushes the bard relentlessly, despite the poor human being way weaker and also having to walk while Geralt gets carried around by Roach, his teasing jabs turn to actually hurtful insults more often than not. So far, the bard had been able to put up with all of that because he has written it up to witchers being emotionally constipated idiots with zero interpersonal skills.

Jaskier knows, now, that he was wrong about that. Geralt is capable of doing better – he has shown him as much during the past few weeks when he tried to atone for almost killing his travel companion. It might take a great deal of effort and self-restraint from the witcher, but he can do it if he put his mind to it. And maybe that abrupt change is what makes his stand-offishness so hard on him now – he had grown used to the softer Geralt. Of course, he hasn’t expected for Geralt to spoil him for the rest of his life. In fact, he was rather sure that he’d eventually grow tired of being pampered while on the road. But he thought that it would eventually tamper off naturally.

Instead, Geralt now spends all of his caring energy on Yennefer.

Every time Jaskier can stand to look at the pair of them, they seem to be having a grand time. For some reason, Yennefer’s snarky remarks aren’t met with Geralt’s usual silent ignorance or annoyed complaints.

Deep down, he knows he’s being petty. Geralt looks – well, he looks like he’s in love. And really, who is Jaskier to deny his witcher a loving relationship with the prettiest, most powerful sorceress on the whole fucking continent? At least they have a similar life expectancy. At least Yennefer is capable of taking care of herself, of carrying her own weight. And she has the added bonus of not being an annoying bard who can’t stop singing for more than five minutes.

His problem, Jaskier concedes, isn’t really the witcher. It’s himself, and his own feelings, and his stupidity. Following a man around for two decades wouldn’t magically turn said man bisexual. Maybe Geralt was right about them being travel companions only, not even friends.

He sighs. They’re already more than half-way up a bloody monster infested mountain. He’ll have a serious talk with Geralt after this is over, or die trying. More likely the latter, the witcher didn’t even know how to do small talk, much less talk about serious things like toxic friendships and unfulfilled expectations.

\---

Jaskier never gets his talk. Instead, he gets his heart broken by another yet wish from Geralt.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier flees from the mountain, Yennefer is a champ and gets them both out of and into trouble, neither of them have to put up with Geralt's bullshit for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll update at least once a week i said. then i was faced with the choice of my life: do my college assignments or write another chapter... yeah... it wasn't a particularly hard choice.

Jaskier stumbles the mountain path down far quicker than is safe for his squishy human body, tears burning in his eyes. He’s too exhausted to sob anymore but determination keeps him going. He wants to get the fuck away from Geralt, and if that means breaking his neck tumbling down the mountainside, then so be it. 

It’s almost dark and he’s about ready to pass out when he spots Roach and the other horses where they left them. He blinks, the horses are still there. He blinks again. Melitele’s tits, how did he manage to get down the mountain in a day after crawling up for almost three and a half?

He doesn’t question it though. Jaskier only hesitates for a second before he puts his stuff in Roach’s saddle bags, unties her, and gets into her saddle.

It’s a dick move, borrowing Geralt’s beloved horse like this, which is partly why he does it. He wants Geralt to come down from the mountain and panic when he can’t find Roach, or any of the things he left in her bags. He wants Geralt to walk through the forest, following their faint trail back to the inn where they left the rest of their belongings. At least he won’t have to worry about Geralt not finding his horse ever again, he’ll inevitably be reunited with Roach when he comes to pick up his extra bag from the inn.

The other reason he does it is that he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, his vision already a bit fuzzy around the edges. Taking the horse doesn’t just allow him a break, it also means that Geralt will take longer to come back, which means he gets to sleep a night in their room before anyone who wasn’t running or riding the whole way could reach him.

Roach finds their way almost on her own, and Jaskier, tired as he is, tosses the stable hand a few extra coins to take care of her in the middle of the night before he slumps up the stairs to their room. He doesn’t even bother undressing, he just falls into his bed and is asleep almost instantly.

\---

Jaskier wakes up to someone knocking on his door. A quick glance towards the window tells him that it’s not even dawn yet, he should still have a few hours before Geralt arrives, maybe even a whole night if the witcher stays with Borch a while, and yet. WHo else should knock at their door at the crack of dawn though? He really doesn't want to face Geralt again, so much that he decides that he can replace everything he owns eventually, grabs his lute and opens the window to climb out.

“Jaskier! It’s Yennefer, not Geralt, please open the fucking door, I promise I just want to talk!”

Jaskier freezes, one leg already thrown over the windowsill. What is Yennefer doing here? Did Geralt decide that the witch would be better to avoid scaring him off before he can kill him for stealing his horse? If so, well, it’s a dumb idea, because Yennefer is a nightmare and sort of his enemy on the best of days simply by being scary as hell. He shakes his head and gets ready to climb out of the window entirely - his experience with climbing out of windows to flee from jealous spouses continues to come in handy ones more - when the door bursts open.

Yennefer stares at him, eyes wide. “What on earth are you doing? Are you trying to die?”

Jaskier just blinks at her. Yennefer looks… dishevelled in a way she doesn’t even look whilst in the middle of fucking a witcher immediatley after almost finding her end through a djinn, or after several days on a mountain. Her eyes are red as if she cried recently, her hair is sticking up in odd places, there’s dark bags under her eyes that she obviously hasn’t even attempted to cover with a glamour or even just paint like some noble women do. Something is off, and he needs to know what, but simply pointing out that the sorceress looks like shit won’t end well for him. So he pulls himself back inside instead.

“No, I’m simply trying to get away before Geralt is here. What are you doing here though?”

He’s still close enough to the window to jump out if need be, and when Yennefer takes a step closer to him, he almost does.

“I’m. Uh. I left some things in Roach’s bag, but I came up here to warn you – Geralt will arrive soon. If you don’t want to run into him you should get your things. He’s…”, she obviously struggles to find the right words, a bunch of emotions flittering over her usually expressionless face all at once, before she settles on something that might be somewhere between regretful and sorry, “He’s upset”

“Because I stole Roach.”

“Because he had a bad fight with the two only people who can usually stand him in one day”, she corrects him, and Jaskier frowns in confusion.

“You had a fight with Geralt? But why? Last time I checked you two love birds were getting on splendidly.” Yennefer doesn’t quite flinch at his words, but it’s close enough. Jaskier still doesn’t trust her, and her sudden openness, but for now he thinks he actually believes her. 

“Oh. You actually fought”, he whispers. He takes a small step away from the window, to do what he doesn’t know – to comfort her? What a ridiculous thought.

Yennefer frowns, clearly as unhappy about her fight with Geralt as Jaskier is about his, but nods. Then she takes an audible breath and straightens her back, carefully putting a blank expression on her face.

“Pack your bags and leave unless you want to see him. If you pack up in the next ten minutes, I suppose you could come through my portal with me, that way Geralt won’t catch up with us for sure”

Jaskier stares at her, completely dumbfounded, but she’s right that he should get out of here fast, so he gathers his things from their bags and turns them into a convenient bundle for traveling before grabbing his lute. Meanwhile, Yennefer tries to detangle her hair with her fingers, obviously waiting for him. He doesn’t think he’ll take her up on the offer with the portal. It would be convenient, yes, but he can’t imagine living indebted to fucking Yennefer of Vengerberg. Hell, she might kill him, or portal him straight to Geralt, or Melitele knows what other terrible ideas could spook around in her pretty head.

“Thank you, Yennefer. For warning me, and the offer with the portal, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decli-“, he stops when he spots a man with white hair and broad, slumping shoulders outside.

“Actually, you know what, a portal sounds great! Amazing! Right now would be a good time, too, please, he’s here, open the fucking portal or we’re both so fucked-“

Yennefer interrupts his babbling by pushing him through the portal she just created before following him to the other side and closing it behind them. Somehow, she comes out standing upright and not looking sick while Jaskier is on the floor, heaving and doing his best not to throw up. For a moment she just stares down at him, then she sighs and offers him a hand. Jaskier, still kinda amazed by the fact that, so far, she hasn’t tricked him into something terrible that he’s aware of, takes it.

“Thanks”, he mumbles, and Yennefer smiles, though there’s no warmth in her face.

“I think we’re going to be great friends”, she replies, and he honestly can’t tell if she’s serious or not.

\---

They don’t get very far that day before they decide to set up camp for the night. Jaskier is still sore and exhausted from running down a mountain, Yennefer is tired from portaling them across the continent a day after fighting to protect a dragon. So they get a fire going, Jaskier spreads out his bedroll and then they sit on that in front of the fire while eating some of their rations. Yennefer procures a water skin from somewhere, and when Jaskier opens it the contents smell a lot more like vodka than water. He takes a sip. It burns in his mouth and all the way down his throat, hard enough to make your eyes water. Maybe Yennefer is trying to poison him after all, though portaling him away for that seems like a lot of effort. He takes another sip anyway, before handing the waterskin back to her. She takes a big gulp and winces, and he can tell that her eyes are watering, too. Maybe she’ll get both of them poisoned.

Jaskier can feel the alcohol sooner than expected, and though his mind is a bit dulled from the alcohol his head is filled with questions, because, quite frankly, the whole situation is bizarre. He doesn’t know where they are, or where he’ll go next, or why Yennefer is still with him. Why she took him along in the first place, really, until this morning he was pretty convinced that the sorceress hates his guts. What kind of fight did Yennefer have with Geralt that would make her side with Jaskier instead? Maybe this was still a trap after all.

Yennefer sighs. “Stop thinking so loudly, bard. Ask what you have to ask before you give both of us a headache”

“Get out of my head, then”, he retorts, and he thinks that he should be angry about her poking around in his mind, but he isn’t. Not when the sorceress still looks so sad and tired, her hair even messier than it was this morning, a few tiny sticks and leaves tangled in the black waves.

“I don’t need to read your mind to see your confusion, Jaskier.”

She looks at him, probably softer than she means to. Jaskier sighs.

“What happened? On the mountain, after I left?”, he finally asks.

Yennefer thinks about it for a while, and it’s obvious how carefully she chose her words when she finally answers. “Geralt and I had a… disagreement on the ethical dimensions of djinn wishes that involve other people. Wishes like ‘I want our lives to be intertwined’”

“Oh”, Jaskier says, because really, what else can one say to that? That’s a terrible wish, even for Geralt – no, especially for Geralt, who doesn’t believe in destiny and has an abandoned child surprise waiting for him in Cintra.

“Yeah, oh. I have no idea why a man as bad with words as he is thought freeing a djinn to catch some rest would be a good plan. I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, obviously, maybe he actually had a plan. But considering how he wished you to die then wasted his other two wishes while trying to stop you from dying I doubt it.”

“I don’t think he wanted me to die. He asked for some peace and quiet, and the djinn figured out that the only way to make me shut up would be to kill me. Which, really, is a fair assessment.”

Yennefer snorts. Is she… amused by him? It’s confusing as fuck, and also sort of scary. When he assumed that Yennefer hates him, he could at least apply some logic to her actions. Now that she apparently doesn’t, he has no clue what to make of her. He tries to take the water skin filled with the hellish almost drink again, maybe he can get his mind to shut up that way, but Yennefer pulls it away from him to take another sip first before handing it over.

“Seems like he fucked both of us over, then. He dealt with you for 20 years and only now decided that he can’t be bothered with you anymore? Fuck that!”

Oh, isn’t that precious? Drunk Yennefer is angry on his behalf. He gets it, though, because while he doesn’t trust or even like her, he’s pissed at Geralt for her, too, and being angry at the bastard is a lot easier than being heart broken and sad while wallowing in self-pity.

“I can’t believe he’d bind yet another woman’s destiny to himself! The bastard doesn’t even believe in destiny! You, Yennefer of Vengerberg, are a strong and independent woman, and if he thinks he can get you through some stupid djinn magic he’s even dumber than I thought!”

It’s not his best retort, but the sorceress grins at him anyway. 

Eventually, they pass out drunk, still sitting next to each other under the stars, and it’s nicer than sleeping next to your enemy ought to be.

\---

“I think we’ve been here before”, Jaskier remarks. They’ve been walking again, looking for some sort of settlement, or at the very least a proper road, after Yennefer had finally admitted that she just portaled them away without thinking too much and doesn’t know where they are, either.

“Oh, really? Care to take the lead, then, oh wise pathfinder?” she snaps back.

Jaskier sighs. The friendliness from last night is lost; instead, they’re both irritable, snapping at each other or walking in uncomfortable silence. He has a splitting headache, no doubt from the terrible vodka they shared last night, and judging from looks and the fact that Yennefer had vomited twice before breakfast she’s probably not doing any better.

He carefully looks at the sun, deciding that it’s almost evening and following it means going west. Just as well – when they passed this exact spot in the morning, they tried going east, and it hadn’t gotten them anywhere. So they head west, until they find their way back into civilization or Yennefer feels up for portaling again.

\---

It takes them another two days until they find a road. A coastal road, which eventually leads them to a reasonably sized village by the sea. Oh, the irony. Jaskier isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or cry when they enter the inn to finally sleep in a real bed again for the night and also get a bath. He can smell himself, and even Yennefer’s lilac and gooseberry scented perfume can’t cover the underlying scent of sweat on her skin anymore.

At least, their way here has given both of them time to think about some things. Like how absolutely moronic it was that they had left, instead of telling Geralt to fuck off. Or how Yennefer only thinks that he’s a little bit annoying, but, and he can’t get that part out of his head, ‘in an oddly endearing way, like a cat repeatedly pushing you glass off the table’. Or how Yennefer isn’t all that scary anymore when she’s covered in mud and asking him to borrow his comb, even though it’s a futile effort – their hair stiff and dry from dirt and the sea salt in the air around them. They’re not friends, not quite, but they have come to appreciate each other in a way that only several days of marching through the wilderness can give you.

Neither of them address how much they both miss Geralt. Instead, they make jokes on his expense while they’re sitting in a tub together, Jaskier carefully trying to detangle her hair like he used to do with Geralt’s, only that Yennefer lets him get into the tub with her. Another thing that only traveling together with no privacy can achieve, he muses, by the second day they had seen pretty much everything about each other that’s to see. 

But fuck, it does hurt. It hurts that Geralt could just sent him away like that after he dedicated the best years of his life to the man, writing songs about how brave and fair and heroic Geralt was, and, in private, more than a few love songs that he had never performed outside of his rooms at the University of Oxenfurt, during long, lonely winters. Maybe he’ll sing a few of them later in their room at the inn, the sadder ones about how Geralt doesn’t love him back, doesn’t even see his love, seem more fitting now than ever before.

Yennefer stops his hands from picking out any more debris from her hair, catching his wrists gently, before she whipes away his tears. 

“Shh, it’s okay. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who pours as much love into you as you into them. And you will find someone else – or twenty someones, really, you may be nearing your forties, but you can have any woman – or man – you want.”

Jaskier sniffles a bit, but nods. Deep down he knows that she’s right, but right now he doesn’t want anyone else. He wants his best friend Geralt, the one person he cannot have. Who thinks that Jaskier is to blame for everything that went wrong in their lives, who probably hates him now and won’t want to see him ever again, and god, it hurts. He hopes that it’s worth the pain, that at least Geralt is happier now that he got rid of his burden.

Yennefer sighs, awkwardly pats his shoulder and then turns him around in the bath to take care of his hair for him. It’s nice, and he’s grateful that she decided to stick around, even if he doesn’t quite understand her reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this feels hurried, i just want jaskier and yennefer to be friendly with each other.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating my birthday with homemade tacos and writing another chapter :D enjoy!

They spend almost a week at the inn. During that time, half a dozen villagers figure out that Yennefer is a mage, and, instead of driving her away, ask her for help. A farmer’s cows are sick and no one knows why. A child broke her wrist from climbing on a tree and falling down. Some of the fishermen need help with a weird sea creature, and in the absence of a witcher a mage will have to make do.

Yennefer looks disgusted every time she’s asked to help, but she complies anyway. Jaskier begins to suspect that underneath all of her badass façade, she’s just as much of a softie as Geralt is under all of his grumpiness. Except Geralt is only truly soft to his fucking horse, of course, and maliciously drives away all his humanoid friends. Thinking about Geralt still hurts so much that Jaskier tries very hard not to, which isn’t working, of course it isn’t.

He plays at the tavern or the inn every evening to earn his own coin, but he can’t bring himself to sing Geralts praise, which means he can’t sing about 95% of his songs without feeling like he might burst into tears in front of everyone. Instead, he plays a lot of the dirtier, rowdier jigs, which at least make the fishermen appreciate his singing. One of them appreciates him enough to ask him for a quick fuck, and while he isn’t up for that in the middle of his heartbreak, they go and make out in the stables a few times. He learns that his name is Liam, and with his weather-worn skin and the light blond hair and the muscle from working on a fishing boat he looks as much as his witcher as a human can. Yennefer teases him relentlessly about how he has a type for a whole night before she gets bored of it.

Liam takes him down to the docks, Jaskier learns some sea shanties, and then Liam sails off on a bigger fishing vessel for a few weeks. Jaskier isn’t even sad to see him go, though it was nice to have someone to keep him company who isn’t Yennefer.

\---

Later that day, Yennefer portals straight into their room. Jaskier is busy writing another one of his secret heartbreak songs, feeling pathetic about it but unable to stop himself regardless when she appears. He looks up from his small notebook only to drop it the second he sees her. Yennefer’s whole arms are covered in blood, and there’s more on her dress, and even a bit smeared on her face. She looks pleased with herself despite her obvious disgust at her own appearance.

“What on earth happened to you? Are you okay?”, he asks, jumping to his feet. He hopes, dearly, that he doesn’t have to take care of any wounds, because he doesn’t want to deal with how much that would feel like taking care of Geralt all over again.

Yennefer wrinkles her nose, appalled by his care, and it’s so Yennefer to be disgusted when he cares about her that he feels better about this whole thing instantly.

“Relax, bard, it’s not my blood. Make yourself useful and go ask for a bath, will you? I don’t exactly fancy going downstairs like this”

“Promise you’ll tell me what happened once you’re not drenched in blood anymore though, sounds like quite the story? Also… try not to drip everywhere”

Yennefer looks straight at him, raises the bloodier arm and flicks it in a way that sends little droplets across the floor and dangerously close to Jaskier’s bag.

“Okay, okay, I’m getting you your fucking bath, melitele’s tits, and people say I’m the irritable one.”

Yennefer just smirks while he goes to fetch one of the innkeeper’s servants. Considering the dire situation he jumps in and helps out a bit, too, carrying water upstairs to fill the tub in the bathroom at the end of their hallway.

A few minutes later Yennefer is sitting in the tub, the water steaming after a quick spell from her has changed the temperature from lukewarm to almost hot enough to boil you alive. Her dress is soaking in a bucket in the corner, the maid insisted that parts of the fabric were salvageable when Yennefer has tried to throw it away. Every time Yennefer moves her arms, red swirls through the water, but so far she’s just laying in there and enjoying her bath, not even making an attempt at scrubbing herself clean.

It’s Jaskier who finally breaks the silence. “So, what actually happened, if this isn’t your blood?”

“I may or may not have cut a baby out of a woman’s womb.” At Jaskier’s sharp inhale she at leat turns her face to him. “Relax, they’re both alive and well, which, for some reason, no one expected. Apparently, when a healer does that, at least one of them tends to die. That’s not the interesting part though.”

Okay, now she really has Jaskier’s undivided attention. While this may not be the greatest story ever told, it also doesn’t sound like something with a new, unexpected outcome.

“The interesting part is that no one here has enough coin to pay me for that, so they paid me with an unused cottage instead. I intend to move in there as soon as possible.”

Jaskier gulps. Of course, their weird pact wasn’t meant to last, and he had to move on eventually. And apparently ‘eventually’ meant ‘soon’. If Yennefer is going to make a life for herself here, even just for a few years, or months, she’ll probably want to do so without a constant reminder of Geralt. Without him. And really, what is a bard supposed to do in a small settlement like this? Learn more sea shanties? Write sad songs about his falling out with the love of his life like a pathetic teenager? Enjoy the company of the witch who almost got him killed for more power? He sighed.

“So, I’ll get ready to leave tomorrow. Got it”

Yennefer stares at him with the most dumbfounded expression he has ever seen on her pretty face. Oh, she has probably thought that he’ll be annoying and clingy and all-around terrible about this, being rejected again and all that. Well, against all odds, Jaskier usually has enough interpersonal skills to know when he’s overstayed his welcome, his friendship with Geralt an exception from that rule, not the norm.

“Uh. I mean, I won’t make you stay, but actually, I was going to ask you if you wanted to stay a bit longer. Help me get settled in, fix up the house for me, make yourself useful while I work…”

Yennefer’s voice trails off and now it’s Jaskier’s turn to look dumbfounded. His mouth is slightly agape while his blue eyes just stare at the sorceress in disbelief.

“You… Want me to… stay?”, it’s a stupid question, he knows it is, his ears are still working just fine, but somehow his brain has short-circuited when Yennefer offered him to stay. Some part of him still thinks that this is a cruel joke, that Yennefer is about to say ‘oh god I can’t believe you fell for this’, and then she’ll tell Geralt about it so they can have a good laugh. But her face looks serious, if a bit unsure, as if she’s worried about his reaction. Then her perfect mask is back in place, that short moment of insecurity gone and replaced by a small snarl.

“Why, no, I just asked you for shit and giggles. Of course I want you to stay, this village will be unbearable if I’m the only city dweller in a fifty mile radius!”

Jaskier blinks at her, slowly, and tries to actually think about this offer. 

“Okay”, he says, not five seconds later, when his mouth betrays him, answering way faster than anyone should reasonably make a decision on a potentially long-term living situation that involves moving in with someone who almost killed him a few months ago, which is so like him that really, he should have expected it.

Yennefer’s entire posture relaxes a bit in front of his eyes, making her sink deeper into the water, and, wow, isn’t that something? Apparently, she really wants him to stay with her. Odd. He’ll have to ask a few questions about this later. Really, they generally should talk about a few things, but for now, he’s still too confused about what his life has become in the past week. It feels like a month since he ran down the stupid mountain but also like it was only yesterday that Geralt yelled at him. He pushes that thought out of his head as hard as he can. He needs something to do, with his hands, to keep his brain busy.

“I, uh, should probably pack my things anyway, right? Yeah. I’ll, uhh, do that, then.”, he goes for an awkward smile and scratches his head before turning on his heel to go to their room.

“I’ll come collect you later, don’t get lost until then!” Yennefer yells after him from the tub. From the corner of his eyes he can see her finally starting to scrub off the dried blood on her arms.

\---

They’re standing in front of the ‘cottage’, staring at what was once probably a beautiful residence. Now, though, the building is all but collapsing on one side. While the left half looks, well, not great, but probably liveable with a few hours of maintenance, the other half looks like it will require much, much more work. Jaskier can see the missing window panels from where he’s standing and tries to ignore the big gaps in the roof where the wooden tiles have fallen off or rotted away over the years. 

“That’s… an interesting payment for saving someone’s wife and child in one go”, Jaskier remarks.

“Maybe I’ll just undo the saving by killing them myself”

Jaskier looks at Yennefer and remembers how her whole focus shifted the second she heard that the dragon was guarding an egg. “No you won’t”, he replies softly.

Yennefer sighs and shakes her head. “No, I won’t”, she agrees, “a small hex isn’t unthinkable though.”

“Well, at least I’ll have enough repairs to keep busy for the foreseeable future”, he finally says. Yennefer stares at him as if he grew a second head but nods along.

“Time to check out how bad it is from inside?”, he suggests.

“Let’s pray that the rest of the roof won’t come down on top of us.”

The rest of the roof does not, in fact, fall down. Instead they discover that there’s a wall between the left and the right half, and the right half was very obviously abandoned years before the rest of the house. At least the part that has a roof is just as okay inside as it looks from the outside. There’s a big kitchen which still has a few pots and enough unbroken cutlery for two people, as well as a smaller room that’s completely empty. They drop their belongings in the smaller room and decide that this can’t be both a bedroom and a storage room for two people, there’s simply no way they could fit their bedrolls and themselves in here without stumbling over a bag with ever step they take. Going upstairs reveals one big bedroom, the wooden floorboards creaking under their feet after not being used for years but supporting their weight easily.

Yennefer is scribbling onto a small piece of paper, making a list of things they’ll need – a bathtub and new beds make it to the very top of the list.

Then they go to the destroyed half. It’s… not as bad as it could be. Mostly, everything wooden needs to be replaced – the floorboards, the roof tiles, the beams that support the second level. All the walls and some of the windows are still intact, there’s very little trash and no plants besides some moss on the rotting wood. They’ll have to invest quite a bit of time in this, but it’s salvageable.

\---

They end up pushing the old beds out of the window and put their own bedrolls upstairs for now. Eventually, they’ll have to burn the pile of dusty old furniture they’ll undoubtedly accumulate over the next few days, but for today, all they do is cleaning up the kitchen enough to use the stove. Yennefer does some magic to clean the chimney. According to her, a clogged chimney could fill the kitchen with a toxic gas. Jaskier doesn’t understand how that’s possible, but he has to admit that Yennefer is probably smarter than him despite his education at Oxenfurt, and anyway, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

\---

Life with Yennefer as a roommate is easier than expected. They fall into a comfortable rhythm that allows them enough time away from each other to appreciate the evenings they get to sit in their kitchen together, or soaking in the tub while sharing some wine. Once Jaskier stops being afraid that Yennefer will betray him the second he turns his back he learns to appreciate her dry sense of humour, her fast, witty retorts and the bickering they share. It’s not often that Jaskier finds someone who can keep up with his endless teasing.

Jaskier spends his days working on the house, at first consulting a few of the local woodworkers more often than not, but soon enough he has the basics down and enough borrowed tools to work on his own. Yennefer either helps him – with magic, of course, there’s no way that she’d ever actually get her hands dirty with this. Other days Yennefer is busy with the jobs the townsfolk has for her. It’s mostly healing related things, their last healer had conveniently died of old age a few months before they arrived, but she’s also started a herb garden, goes foraging, and haggles mercilessly with every merchant and traveller she can find to get more potion ingredients and magical items. The storage room that’s connected to the kitchen slowly but surely turns into something akin to a laboratory.

In the evenings, Jaskier composes new songs, or plays at the tavern, or sits on the docks with whoever he befriends that day. Liam comes back eventually, and they almost do fuck, except the poor fisherman just doesn’t know how to have sex when his partner doesn’t have a dick and all but runs away. He apologizes the next day, clearly embarrassed, and reassures Jaskier that this doesn’t change anything else between them. Jaskier just laughs and shares his ale with his friend. He’s found enough other people to keep him company during the night when he wants it. People who don’t panic at the sight of a vagina. 

Jaskier throws himself fully into everything he does, and at night he falls into his bed – an actual bed now, not his bedroll – and passes out from exhaustion the second his head hits the pillow. Most nights he doesn’t even dream, his body desperately clinging onto every tiny bit of rest it can get. It’s what he needs right now. As soon as he sits down to actually rest his mind wanders back to Geralt, and how he misses him. It’s not as bad as it was at first, but still a painful memory. It doesn’t help that his initial hurt and sadness are slowly turning into anger. Sure, he misses Geralt, but no one gets to treat him like that witcher did. The months after the djinn incident but before their reunion with Yennefer aside, Geralt had been an ass to him for years, condescending and pushy and unreliable and so fucking moody. The mountain incident, as both Yennefer and Jaskier had started to call that terrible day, is really just the tip of the iceberg. The real issue is that Geralt doesn’t trust Jaskier to take care of himself, or anything else for that matter. Which is absurd. Not only has he been a traveling bard before he even met Geralt, he also travelled witcher-less for months at a time whenever Geralt left him or they didn’t meet each other immediately after a winter. So far, his survival rate was at 100%.

Being angry is harder to ignore than being sad, but easier to deal with – he can quite literally deal with it through physical exercise, or, in this case, long days of hard, physical labour. Jaskier is sure that once he is done with this house his shoulders will be almost as broad as Geralt’s.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Geralt, Bitch! Thought we could deal with an update on what he does while Yennefer and Jaskier are vibing and enjoying their lives.

Geralt feels like he has a new side hustle working as a bloody detective, carefully trying to piece together the puzzle pieces that will lead to Jaskier. After finding Roach in the stable he had been even angrier that Jaskier would steal his horse, but he asked the barkeep about his whereabouts anyway. According to the man Jaskier was in his room with a visitor who had arrived this morning – ‘the black haired scary lady who travelled with you, you know, the one with the freak eyes’ – but when he entered the room it was empty. A window was open, the air still smelled like magic, Jaskier, and Yennefer’s perfume. He decided that they probably left by portaling away and decided to let them have that. Yennefer and Jaskier didn’t get along particularly well, so they’d probably split up the second they came out of the portal and Jaskier would be on his way, wandering from tavern to tavern and doing his thing. Back then, he had thought that they’d run into each other again in a few weeks anyway, like they always did, and that would be that. Until then he could enjoy the blessed silence.

But now it’s been almost a month since he sent Jaskier away and Geralt can’t stand the silence anymore. Winters at Kaer Morhen aside this is probably the longest he’s been without his bard in at least a decade, and he does have company at the keep. Out here on the Path his only company is Roach, and while she’s lovely as always, it suddenly bothers him that she can’t talk. 

He just wants things to go back to how they were before Jaskier left. Maybe he had overreacted when he told him that he was the reason for all of his problems – it wasn’t even true. He’s on his own now and his luck is neither better nor worse than it was with Jaskier at his side, only harder to deal with without the bard chattering away next to him, even when he didn’t reply. Not that he’d ever admit out loud that he actually enjoyed that. 

The worst part of it all isn’t the loneliness though. It’s worrying himself sick, because Jaskier didn’t just leave him behind, he fucking vanished, and a small voice in his brain won’t shut up about how he could be dead by now, and he’d never know. Melitele knows that the bard sucks at looking after himself, that was probably half the reason he stuck with Geralt for so long. Now he’s looking for Jaskier, his search turning a little more frantic every day.

At night he dreams about Jaskier being eaten by monsters, or killed by bandits, or, rarely, being kidnapped by Nilfgaard. It gets so bad that he starts to meditate most nights instead of sleeping. It makes him feel exhausted, but his body stays functional, and with his occupation that’s the part of him that truly matters.

At every settlement he passes he asks about Jaskier, the bard. No one has seen him. He starts to ask for a man in his late thirties instead, because he thinks that’s how old Jaskier is, with a lute, brown hair and unusually blue eyes instead, just in case Jaskier has changed his name or something. He wouldn’t put it beyond the bard to be so dramatic about their fight that he creates a whole new identity around it. A few people have seen someone that fits that description, and he follows those trails, but always ends up finding the wrong bard. 

Finally, he decides to turn to Oxenfurt. If no one has seen Jaskier on the road for months, then maybe it’s because he’s not traveling anymore, and Geralt knows that he gives lectures at the academy during winter. Maybe he returned to the safety of the city early this year. It’s as good a chance as any, and while following a clear route instead of riding from contract to contract earns him even less coin than his usual travels, it’s worth it. He just needs to know that Jaskier is alive, and if he is – comfortable and probably whoring around and getting drunk between classes – he can be angry at Jaskier for pulling a disappearing act, but until he knows that he’s safe all his brain can focus on is his worry.

\---

After asking around at Oxenfurt for two days, he’s approached by a man who introduces himself as Professor Kendril while he’s sipping ale at another tavern that he’s visiting to check for Jaskier. Professor Kendril is a small man with wild, curly hair and intense green eyes. Geralt guesses that he’s in his late fifties but he’s terrible at guessing people’s age, human life spans are lost on him.

“I heard you’re looking for Professor Pankratz, yes?”, the man asks, and Geralt blinks at him in surprise.

“Who the hell is Professor Pankratz?” Maybe his description has turned out wrong when the rumours spread. Geralt is pretty sure that he doesn’t know anyone named Pankratz.

For some reason, Kendril seems to think it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and laughs so hard that he’s snorting some of his own ale through his nose and over their table. Geralt moves his arms out of the way. Smelling like monster guts is one thing, he doesn’t need to reek like bad ale on top of that.

“What’s so funny?”, he asks, feeling like Kendril is making fun of him.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just. You make such a ruckus, asking anyone who has ears about Jaskier, and you don’t even know his full name? What, you thought the poor lad’s mother popped him out and decided to name her son ‘buttercup’?” He shakes his head.

„Hmm“, he grunts, angry, though mostly at himself. Pankratz is Jaskier. Geralt has never given it much thought, but Jaskier is an odd name. He should’ve known that it was an alias. Hell, Jaskier probably even told him his real name at some point, but Geralt never bothered to actually listen, he just enjoyed the background noise the bard provided. Until the djinn thing, of course, when Jaskier almost died and he decided that he can’t let that happen, ever, and he needs to appreciate his companion a bit more.

Kendril just continues laughing at him and pats his back in an uncomfortably friendly gesture. 

“Lad talks so much about you when he’s here and you don’t even know his actual name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, son of the viscount de Lettenhoven”

Geralt grunts. What is it with professors of Oxenfurt not being scared of him in the slightest? It’s annoying, Kendril’s friendly chattering grating on his nerves, but at the same time this is the most news he’s gotten since his search started, so he has to stay amiable enough to get as many answers as the man has. At least he might have another lead – though he’s pretty sure that Jaskier hasn’t talked a lot about his parents, maybe he went back to Lettenhove for some reason. Or maybe Kendril knows where Jaskier is. He should just ask, and once he has his answer he can finally leave the city behind.

“Have you seen him?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since winter last year. Spent the last winter at court instead of teaching – got an invitation from Countess de Stael, I think, would’ve been foolish to decline that offer. Rumour has it that they enjoy each other’s company far more than a bard and a countess should, but you probably already know that. Actually, since you’re his friend and all, I was hoping you’d know if he’ll be back this year to teach.”

Geralt blinks. He didn’t know that Jaskier wasn’t in Oxenfurt last winter, either, or that he knows the Countess de Stael that intimately. Which makes him question what he does know about the bard, or why he has to hear all this from a stranger, especially if Jaskier tells people that they’re friends. Surely, friends should know each other’s names, or where they spent the winter. At least it’s another trail he can follow. If Jaskier has a long-lasting affair with the countess, maybe he’s returned to her court. It sounds likelier than Lettenhove, at least.

“Sorry, I don’t know his plans for this winter”, he tells Kendril, then he knocks down the rest of his ale, gets up, and leaves.

\---

Countess de Stael wastes his whole day, making him take a bath and dress up in a truly hideous doublet that makes the silk-trader outfit Jaskier had put him in years ago look beautiful by comparison and refusing to even see him before dinner, only to tell him that she hasn’t seen Jaskier since last winter, either. 

When Geralt leaves, she asks him to get a message to Jaskier when he finds him. Not if, when. She seems convinced that he’s fine, and it makes Geralt both angrier and calms his worries a little bit.

Her message is that she’s sorry, and Jaskier is always welcome to come back if he can forgive her. Geralt doesn’t know what she’s talking about, and he isn’t about to ask, or even play messenger, really. This is their issue, not his.

He leaves for Lettenhove before nightfall.

\---

Geralt doesn’t know what he expected when he came to Lettenhove asking for Jaskier, but it was certainly not this.

At first, people are friendly enough considering he’s a witcher. There’s a contract to fulfil, so it’s not all that surprising, maybe – it’s just a bunch of drowners by the river side, but it’s still witcher work, and, suddenly nervous about talking with Jaskier’s parents, he fulfils the contract before walking up to the estate.

The building is somewhere between a big mansion and a small castle. Geralt can’t believe that Jaskier grew up here and then decided to stick with him for twenty years. What on earth could turn a man who’s so fond of luxury into a traveling bard? He’s always known that Jaskier lacks a normal human amount of risk-awareness and fear, but that’s not exactly a motive.

He gets a good idea about the reason soon enough, though. The Viscount, who actually agrees to talk with him, seems like any other aristocrat at first, fake smile and politeness and lots and lots of self-control while they walk through the gardens. Geralt can smell the sour smell of fear on the man but that’s the only sign of discomfort he can spot.

That is, until he asks if the man has seen his son Julian recently and the smell turns from fear to anger in an instant. The viscount’s smile is visibly forced and frosty and he stops walking to reply.

“As far as I’m concerned, he’s dead. If you look for that fool, leave and don’t come back. He hasn’t shown his face here in decades and he’d be wise to stay away forever. If you’re his friend, you’re not welcome in my house either.”

Geralt isn’t usually one to prod in family affairs, but this one seems curious. Jaskier is so charismatic and cheerful. He can’t picture the bard doing anything that would warrant a reaction like this.

He gets the clue and leaves the Lettenhove estate, his head filled with even more questions than before and no answers. It’s fairly obvious that Jaskier is nowhere near Lettenhove. Which leaves only one possible lead to follow: Yennefer.

If they portaled away together then she’ll at least know where she dropped the bard off. And while two months are a long time to move far away from that spot, it’s literally the only idea he can come up with now.

There's only one issue: he hasn’t heard of Yennefer since they fought on the mountain either, and he doubts that she’d want to be found by him. 

He does, however, know where Triss Merigold was a week or two ago, and Triss usually stays in touch with Yennefer from what he knows. They might even be friends. Honestly, the way Yennefer forms relationships with other people confuses him, but he’d do anything to see Jaskier well and alive again at this point. Anything to get him back.

\---

He gets to Triss and asks about Yennefer, which results in him almost being kicking out. He just barely manages to say “Please, I just want to know where Jaskier is, I’m not going to try anything dumb with Yennefer again” before she can slam the door in his face with magic.

The words make her hesitate, Melitele bless her. She doesn’t quite let him in, but she keeps the door open wide enough to stare him down, suspicion obvious on her face.

“Why do you care about that?”, she asks, and Geralt doesn’t know how to answer her, so he just shrugs, shifting uncomfortably under her gaze. He doesn’t know how to explain that his whole world seems dull and grey without Jaskier’s excitement. How he wakes up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, because in his dreams, Jaskier always dies and he isn’t there to stop it. How he hates bathing without gentle hands washing his hair for him with overprized scented soaps. 

She sighs and her face softens a bit. He gets the impression that she looked inside his head, but apparently his thoughts are what she wants to see, so he won’t complain about the instrusion this time.

“Come on, inside with you. We have a few things to talk about.”, she smiles and steps aside and Geralt follows her into a comfortable kitchen. The smell of dried herbs and potions is almost overwhelming. One wall is completely lined with shelves filled with jars of various sizes, carefully labelled. The cauldron over the fire smells like something no one should ever eat, and there’s a few too many knives next to the stove. There’s a table in the centre of the room and Triss gestures for him to sit down on one of the chairs. He does, the wood creaking under his weight. He feels out of place, everything so obviously made for or by Triss, who is at least a whole foot shorter than him and maybe half his weight, if that.

Triss gets them two steaming hot cups of tea out of literally nowhere before she sits down across from him.

“So, Jaskier”, she starts. Geralt just grunts in reply, still not sure what to say now that he’s here.

“You worry about him.” It’s a statement, not a question, but he grunts in agreement anyway. Triss sighs.

“You know, this feels like a very one-sided conversation. I saw how much you miss him, and worry about him, and all that. I can tell you that he’s alive and well. But right now, there’s more important things you need to take care of.”

Geralt blinks at her in confusion. “More important? What could be more important? Where is he? How do you know he’s okay? I need to see him!”

“You need to calm down and drink your tea. I know because he’s with Yen. I can’t tell you where they are, because then you’d only run after them, and I can’t let you do that, because destiny has other plans for you.”

Geralt wants to scream. What could possibly be more important than seeing if Jaskier is safe? Why is he with Yennefer? He thought they can’t stand each other. Did Yennefer kidnap him? But why on earth would she do that? Nothing about this makes sense. He wants to get up and scream in frustration, but he doesn’t. Instead he focuses on his breath and looks at Triss, expecting her to tell him what would be more important than Jaskier’s well-being.

“Nilfgaard is getting ready to attack Cintra. You need to go pick up your child surprise.”

“No. No way. I need to see Jaskier, I need to get him back, please, Triss, I haven’t seen that child, not once in her entire life, I’m sure Calanthe knows how to protect her-“

“If you get the lion cub to safety, I’ll tell you where they are.”

Oh, he hates this. He hates how the second she says that, he just deflates and nods. If this is what it takes to find Jaskier again, he’ll do it.

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remeber when i said i'd update at least once a week? realistically, ya'll get a chapter about every second day during the week i guess. you're welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for recreational drug use! If that's something you want to skip, just skip the whole first part of this chapter to the first ---

It’s midsummer night and both him and Yennefer are invited to the town’s festival at the beach. The locals smoke an odd herb mixture for special occasions like this one – or just for fun, really. Liam has offered to smoke with him before but Jaskier has learned to decline strange plants after traveling with a witcher for 20 years. Also, his professors at Oxenfurt told all of them countless times that smoking is bad for the voice. He’s not sure if it’s true, but he’d rather not test that theory on himself. Tonight, though, Yennefer is here, and after sniffing the dried leaves carefully she looks positively delighted. 

“Tonight, my dearest Jaskier, will be a night to remember!”, she exclaims and just snatches the pipe from the man in front of her. He tries to take it back, but Yennefer already has her back turned to the guy and offers Jaskier the pipe instead. Well, if the herbs are now sorceress-approved it won’t kill him to try.

“If you say so. I better still be able to play after this, though”, he takes the pipe from Yennefer while she pushed him backwards through the crowd, away from the poor man they just robbed. He takes a drag, inhaling deeply. The smoke tastes oddly sweet but it does nothing to lessen the small coughing fit that follows. This is how he’s going to die, coughing out his lungs from smoking funny herbs. Yennefer raises an eyebrow at him, clearly amused about his struggles to catch his breath again.

“I thought you went to university. Please tell me that students there still know how to have fun. Even as a mage at Aretuza I got to smoke this… among other things.”

“Bards-“, Jaskier is interrupted by another wheezing cough but tries again, “bards tend to stick with liquid fun. Less damage for the voice or something”, he replies.

“Oh god. How did you survive forty years on this planet limited by your vocal cords like that? Come on, we have to get you high without the smoking then.”

Yennefer takes his wrist and pulls him through the crowd, her other hand holding the pipe, occasionally inhaling more of the smoke. For some reason her lungs are totally unaffected, and Jaskier is left to wonder how often she has done this before. Huh, who would’ve guessed that Yennefer enjoyed getting high on herbs? Then again, if you grow plants with healing (or poisonous) properties in your backyard as a hobby, using them in a recreational way is probably very inviting.

They end up in front of a smaller fire where a woman sells mulled wine. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk instead of joining your high?”

Yennefer shakes her head and giggles. That’s new. Jaskier is pretty sure that he’s never heard her giggle before. Maybe she should get high more often if it makes her display a normal human expression of joy. Or they should get Geralt high if they ever get the chance, maybe then he’ll communicate in more than grunts and elaborate ‘fuck’s.

While he’s distracted, Yennefer has charmed a woman next to them into giving her some of the herbs despite the fact that she’s still smoking. Then she drops the dried leaves into the cup of mulled wine and pushes it into his hands.

“Let it steep before you drink it. This will probably hit you differently, and way later than smoking does, but hey, we have all night”, 

She giggles again before grabbing his free hand and dragging him around again, ooh-ing and aah-ing at different booths at the edge of the beach. They get roasted fish for dinner, Yennefer eating more than Jaskier has previously thought possible. Jaskier spots a merchant selling silks and linens, and despite the fact that it’s slowly getting too dark to see the colors clearly he buys what he assumes to be a deep green silk-blend. Yennefer spots some magical oddities that she tries to explain to him, all giddy about her luck, but he can’t quite follow her. The spiked mulled wine catches up to him, and everything is pleasantly soft and anything Yennefer says makes him giggle, it’s just so funny.

At some point Liam finds him and invites them to join his friends – their friends, really, Jaskier hangs out with them even when Liam isn’t around – and they get roped into dancing around the bonfire. The logs are all driftwood and the flames burn bright blue and violet. In his altered state of mind, Jaskier is sure that this is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Yennefer is laughing behind him, he can see Liam dancing so off beat that it looks almost purposeful, one of their other friends (with certain benefits) twirls him around in her arms before pulling him in for a kiss. Jaskier kisses back for a second before focusing on dancing again, doing both at the same time requires more coordination than he has right now.

Later that night the all lay in the sand to star gaze. Yennefer is on his left side, some girl he’s pretty sure he’s never talked to before tonight on his right, both of them holding his hands. Liam is somewhere close by, and so are all his other friends, quietly chatting with each other. Jaskier smiles a small, content smile. He’s happy.

\---

It’s been three days since they had celebrated Jaskier finishing the last bit of work on the house. Three days since his job is done and Jaskier is about ready to crawl up the walls, tear it all down and start over again just to have something, anything, to do.

He’s written two new songs. He went swimming, even though the sea water is freezing cold all year around and now that it’s fall the air isn’t much warmer. He went hiking, and he helped Yennefer in the garden, and he deep cleaned their tub and did the dishes and made an attempt at cooking an elaborate meal. None of it is enough to replace working hours and hours on end rebuilding a house.

His restlessness finally annoys Yennefer so much that she snaps at him.

“Jaskier! By melitele’s tits, if you don’t get out of here until you can sit down without getting up to pace through the kitchen every ten seconds I swear I’ll turn you into a fucking toad!”

“Yes. Sure. Right. Sorry”, he rambles, already on his way out. Maybe going outside will help. He doubts it, but running around outside beats driving Yennefer crazy any day so he gives it a shot.

On his way out he decides that today is as good a day as any to return all the borrowed tools they still have. And maybe, just maybe, he can ask a few of the woodworkers in the city if they need an extra hand right now. Anything to keep him occupied.

On his way to the town he realizes just how much of an integral part of himself being busy is. Always has been, really. As a child, no one could get him to sit down. He got through Oxenfurt academy without killing his roommate by partying several nights a week and burning off energy with sexual acts that he can’t imagine he’d still be able to perform at his current age. Immediately after studying, he had decided to be a traveling bard; being a court bard, lounging around in a castle and staying in one place for years at a time had been his worst nightmare. And then he travelled with a witcher, because of course normal human traveling speed – and risks – weren’t enough. And now he has a house with his best friend, and no idea what to do with himself.

He wants to get going again, he wants to travel, see new places, meet new people, and walk until he’s actually exhausted. At the same time, he doesn’t want to leave Yennefer and Gertrud – the goat they got as payment for one of Yen’s odd jobs – behind. Or his friends, Liam and Caleb and Rowena and all the others. Or even the sea, really, he likes this place and its people. There’s also the fact that fall will turn into winter soon enough. He wouldn’t get very far before he’d have to find a place to settle down and get comfortable for the winter, even if he left the next day. Maybe he’ll start traveling again next spring, but for now, it just seems unwise, even to him.

While he’s lost in thoughts, he makes his way to one of the smaller workshops just outside of town. He doesn’t bother knocking, chances are that no one is here anyway. Caleb, the owner of this place, is a hunter first and a woodworker second, which is why Jaskier was able to borrow all kinds of stuff from him for extended periods of time in the first place.

He’s proven wrong. Caleb is, in fact, there, working on a whole bunch of new arrows. His head snaps to the door as Jaskier enters, so fast that he drops the arrow he’s working on.

“Jaskier! And all my tools!”, he greets him, grinning as he turns to face him properly.

“Hi Caleb. Thought I’d bring you your stuff back, now that the house is done. And. Uhh. This might sound weird, but it’s been three days without working, and I swear I’m loosing it. You don’t happen to have a job for me, do you? Or know someone who does?”, his tone is treading the fine line between whining and begging, and he makes his best puppy dog eyes at his friend. It seems to work, at least enough to make Caleb really consider his request, judging from the way he frowns and takes a few moments to reply.

“Hmm. Hunting season starts in a few days. Could always use more arrows for that, and more hunters. You know how to use a bow?”

It’s Jaskier’s turn to give it a moment of consideration. Hunting isn’t something he usually does, but a useful skill on the road. And as a young man, when he still tried to live up to the expectations of his parents and had a chance to become a viscount, he hadn’t been half bad with a bow. Better than with a sword, anyway.

“I could learn, if you give me a chance”, he finally says. Caleb grins at him.

“In that case it’s time for you to learn the basics of making arrows so I can get a bow together for you while you do my work for me.”

\---

It’s a weird idea, but now that he’s starting to become an acceptable hunter, he wants to learn more survival skills. Being a traveling bard is nice, and he still composes songs at night, playing the quiet ones to Yennefer or his friends after dinner in their kitchens and the rowdier ones in the local tavern every Friday night. The thing is, he has the bard part of being a traveling bard pretty much down. It’s time to work on the traveling skills. 

Hunting is a great start. He hunts with Caleb and a small group of men from the town almost every week, sometimes spending days at a time in the wilderness. They teach him how to use a bow and crossbow, how to read tracks, how to kill with his hunting knife when his aim isn’t perfect, how to hang the animals up to bleed out, to skin them, to smoke or cure the meat. To get the pelts in a condition that’s good enough to sell them to a tanner at a decent price. Then, he finds a tanner to teach him the basics of tanning furs himself.

Next comes riding. He gets attached to the grey gelding he borrows for the longer hunts, part of him finally understanding Geralt’s obsession with Roach. Horses are nice company. Not a replacement for his evenings laughing with Yennefer in front of a fire, but nice. When he has enough coin saved up, he buys the gelding. Gertrud doesn’t seem to mind the new company in her stable.

When the days become shorter and colder, their hunting trips become shorter, too. Instead of several days spent in the wilderness they ride out hours before the first sunlight, catch what they can and return in the afternoon. Once again Jaskier is left with spare time, and while he doesn’t mind it as much during the winter, he relishes in learning new skills, so he goes to Yen and asks her to teach him potions. Nothing magical, obviously, but most of the medicines she makes for the town people aren’t inherently magical. She makes him beg, quite literally on his knees, mostly because she still gets a kick out of being a terrible menace to him sometimes, but in the end, she says yes.

Once they’re both sure he can manage making a few basic healing salves that would probably be useful on his planned journey, he’s ready to find something new again, only he isn’t sure what to do next, so he actually asks Yennefer. The sorceress has the audacity to find a sensible reply within a second.

“You can’t do any close range combat. Go find a knife or something, try not to stab yourself”, she says, not even looking up from her book. She’s both sad and glad that the bard won’t be glued to her side anymore whenever he’s at home. Teaching isn’t her forte, and while the bard has grown on her, she really loves working alone. It calms her in much the same way that moving around does for Jaskier.

Jaskier picks up a small dagger from the local blacksmith, making sure that it’s almost the same weight as his hunting knife, and asks Liam to teach him how to wield them as weapons.

\---

Yennefer leaves shortly before the winter solstice. An old friend from Aretuza, Triss Merigold, has been very insistent on meeting up to catch up on stuff. It doesn’t feel like the good type of catching up, but Jaskier is glad that Yennefer gets to see people like her for a few days. She’s been complaining about the people in town for days now, and though he knows that she occasionally talks to Triss through some sort of magical device, it’s not the same thing as actually meeting someone.

He celebrates having the whole house to himself by inviting his friends over under the condition that they each bring an alcoholic beverage to share with the group. It turns out to be a good arrangement, and between the stew and the different liquors and the sweet-sour seaberry pie Rowena made they get so drunk that Jaskier can’t remember half of his night the next morning.

What he does know when he wakes up is that he’s feeling miserable; he’s getting too old to drink excessively. His head is pounding something fierce and he feels like his skin is going to melt off from the heat that sharing his bed with not one but two of his friends caused. He pushes through, though, and gets up as quietly as he can. There’s a bunch of people on bedrolls on his bedroom floor and he just prays that the friends he can’t spot made it home safe last night and didn’t do something incredibly stupid like sleeping in Yennefer’s room across the hall.

When he gets downstairs to relief himself and maybe find some water and a potion for his headache he almost jumps out of his skin. Yennefer is sitting at their kitchen table, the most sombre expression on her face that he’s seen since they moved here. Either she went home to someone sleeping in her bed and this is the face she chose to wear while carefully skinning Jaskier alive or something happened at Triss’ place.

“What’s wrong?”

Yennefer looks him over and concludes that he’s not fit for the conversation they need right now. Jaskier can’t blame her, he still feels vaguely nauseous in a way he hasn’t felt since he got drunk with Yennefer for the first time– on alcohol that was meant for potion making, not for drinking, as she confessed to him one evening over dinner – when they were still mostly bonded together by their hatred for Geralt rather than the friendship they had now.

“Nothing that can’t wait until you’ve taken a bath. I’ll prepare breakfast for you and… how many people did you squeeze into your bedroom, Jaskier? Anyway, I’ll make breakfast, and then I’ll kick them out, this isn’t the type of talk anyone should overhear”

Jaskier feels like he should protest, tell her that he’s ready to kick out his friends and have a deep talk right now, but a bath does sound amazing right now, so he smiles at Yen and nods gratefully.

“Thanks, you’re a treasure. I think we’re around ten? Unless someone sneaked into your room, in which case I am very sorry I told them very explicitly not to go in there.”

“Unlike some people I lock my door when I know that a bunch of strangers will stumble through our house, so rest assured that no one slept in my bed. Now go take a bath, I can smell the ale from here.”

“Alright, alright”, he grumbles before going to their bathroom. Living with a sorceress means magical warm bath water, always, and while sitting in the warm tub does nothing for his nausea – if anything, it makes him feel slightly more dizzy – he feels a lot more like himself once he’s clean.

Back in the kitchen, Yennefer is eating porridge with his friends spread out over their furniture or sitting on the floor. It’s a strange sight, Yennefer never socializing too much with the townspeople outside of work and festivities, but Jaskier can appreciate the domesticity they share. He fills one of their cups with porridge; they’re all out of bowls, not prepared for hosting more than maybe three guests at a time.

Everyone is chatting idly and having as much fun as their hangover allows, but Jaskier can’t relax. He keeps exchanging tense glances with Yennefer, worrying about what it is that has Yennefer of Vengerberg worried. If it stresses someone as powerful as her out it’s probably devastating news for him. Waiting for his friends to finish breakfast and leave seems to take hours, and when the last one of them finally leaves it takes a lot of self-restraint from him not slam the door shut behind Liam. He’s still closing it with more force than strictly necessary, and usually it’s something Yennefer would tease him about. He can almost hear it, ‘Oh Jaskier, still can’t cope with your new arm muscles? If you continue working out like you do you’ll turn into a witcher, all strength and no wit’, but she doesn’t say anything, which is a million times more unnerving.

Jaskier puts a kettle on the stove and his hands only shake a little bit, then he sits down next to her.

“Okay, I’ve suffered long enough, please don’t keep me waiting any longer. What’s going on, Yen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah! cliffhanger! I doubt you'll have to wait long, though, Jack Kerouac's spirit possessed me so i, too, can be high on medication while writing a 420 page novel in two weeks.
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.emotionalumami.tumblr.com)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two chapters in 24 hours? it's more likely than you think.

“I talked with Triss, and I think there’s several things you should know about”, Yen starts, and Jaskier’s last hopes that this might not be so bad and he misinterpreted their whole morning is crushed brutally by her tone alone.

“She has news of Nilfgaard… and Geralt. Both are kinda bad news, so you get to choose what you want to start with”

Jaskier doesn’t have to think long about this one. News from Nilfgaard are almost certainly war related. Bad new from Geralt, however, could be anything from ‘He’s on his way here and out to kill you for stealing Roach for one night nine months ago’ to ‘He’s fucking dead’.

“Geralt first, war second”, he says, and Yennefer nods. 

“Triss used us as a bargain chip with him to get him to safe Princess Cirilla of Cintra. Apparently, he’s been looking for you ever since he sent you away and took a trip down your memory lane in the process. Triss says he went to Oxenfurt, Countess de Stael and Lettenhove before trying to get a hold of me through her, which. I mean, I guess it’s his way of showing that he cares but it’s quite frankly obsessive and if I were you I’d be so creeped out right now. Also, so condescending. Triss said he thought that you died without him around to safe you.”

Jaskier blinks. That’s not the news he expected, and a lot to take in at once, and he’s not so sure if he’d classify that as bad news. To be perfectly honest, he still misses Geralt. And maybe, just maybe, they can talk things out, and Geralt will apologize, and suddenly respect that Jaskier is about as capable at surviving as a human can be. It’s not a very likely scenario, but a man can dream. Then his brain properly registers the first part of what Yennefer just told him and he blinks again, even more confused.

“Wait, what? What did Triss tell him to get him to pick up his child surprise? I’ve been needling him about that since the cub was born like, 14 years ago. If he knows where we are, he’ll probably come here without Cirilla.”

“She didn’t tell him shit, but she will tell him where we are once he picked up the cub.”, Yen pauses in contemplation for a second. “Should I ward our house against him or are you fine with being found?”

Huh. That’s an interesting offer, but he thinks he actually really wants to see Geralt again. Maybe he’s weak for wanting the guy back after nine months of blessed peace, surrounded by friends who have no problems showing their affection for each other, or him. And truth be told he has started to expect people to do as much, so if Geralt does come back, he’ll have to do some proper grovelling to be forgiven and change his behaviour afterwards… but he does want to see his witcher again. So, so badly.

Yennefer rolls her eyes at him before he can even answer her question.

“I see how it is. No wards, then. Your water is boiling, go make us some tea before I get into the Nilfgaard issue.”

Jaskier feels the strong urge to strangle her for taking all the time in the world with her explanations. Instead he makes a whiny noise in complaint. He knows she gets a kick out of knowing more than him and teasing him with it, making him do useless little things like getting them a cup of tea when all he wants is to know what’s changed about the war that it’s suddenly relevant for them, personally. But the downside of having a powerful sorceress as your best friend is that sometimes, you just have to play along to get what you want. Nothing stops him from glaring daggers at her while he’s pouring the hot liquid into cups. Yen pretends not to notice anything and smiles cheerfully at him when he sets the cup down in front of her.

“Now would you please care to enlighten me, my dearest Yennefer?”, he huffs and sits down again.

“Aretuza and the brotherhood decided to join the war. Nilfgaard is advancing faster than we thought, which is why Geralt was sent to Cirilla. We’re expecting Cintra to fall within the next week.”

Yennefer pulls a map out of thin air and rolls it out over the table before strategically placing her cup, teaspoon, and the sugar bowl on it.

“We – the mages – plan to stop Nilfgaard at Sodden Hill. If we want to get a chance at winning, we’ll need to surprise Nilfgaard. Which means we can’t all just portal to Sodden Hill a few days before battle. We’ll have to walk. If our sources are correct, we need to be there in three weeks or else we’ll be too late. Since it’s a two week trip by horse…”

“You’ll leave soon”, Jaskier finishes. Suddenly he’s glad for his tea cup. It gives him something to hold onto. It feels like someone has just forcefully hammered a whole textbook worth of new information into his brain, even though he’s sure that Yen only bothered with telling him the bare essentials. 

“We, Jaskier. I want you to come with me. After the fight… We’ll probably need someone to take care of us. Someone who can’t be involved in the battle and risk death. I’m asking you to camp in a safe distance, wait until it’s over, and then come and look for us. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if anyone I trust anyone with this it’s you.”

Now that is something he really, truly, cannot comprehend right now. The open expression of trust in his abilities combined with the prospect of going to war is just too much right now.

“I – I think I need a minute”, he manages to say before getting up. “I’ll be back before night, I promise, I just – I need to move.”

Yennefer nods and lets him go for now.

\---

Jaskier returns in the late afternoon, his body littered with bruises after deciding to go to Liam for a hungover sparring session. At least his brain is calmer now, calm enough to actually think about what going to Sodden with Yen entails from a practical perspective.

He starts by going through his own room and gathering all the things he’s definitely going to need: his bow and arrows, the hunting knife and dagger. Small clothes, extra pants, some woolen shirts, long jacks because it’s still freezing cold outside, his warmest cloak, a pack of potions, some soap, his bedroll with an extra blanket. He hesitates for a few seconds, then he puts his lute on the stack, too. Leaving it behind would feel wrong, even if he won’t be able to use it much.

After that, he goes to Yennefer and asks what potions they’ll need to restock before they go. They brew until midnight, both silently focused on their tasks. Only when they both get too tired to focus on the task at hand do they retire to their rooms. Before they split up to sleep, Yennefer catches his wrist.

“We’ll get provisions tomorrow. The day after, we ride”, she tells him, hesitatesher face gets that soft, almost mushy expression that she only shows when she really cares about something. 

“Thank you for coming with me, Jaskier. You’ve grown into a truly worthy travel companion”

And, oh, Jaskier chokes up at that. “Thanks, Yen”, he whispers, trying very hard not to cry. Soft Yennefer is something he still doesn’t really know how to handle without tears, she can’t just go and say that and expect him not to go equally soft. It’s just how he is, He is, after all, first and foremost a bard, and as such, being emotional is part of his job.

Luckily, Yennefer is a lot better at not being emotional. She just nods at him, the softness vanishing from her face as fast as it appeared, turns around and closes her bedroom door behind herself.

\---

The next day passes by in a flurry. Jaskier gets Gertrude, the goat, a new home, and finds a horse for Yennefer. He buys dried fruit and breads and cured meats and cheese to last them for their journey, and a tent, because traveling in winter will be hell without something to protect them from the wind and snow at least. He tells Caleb to send Geralt to their house if he arrives before they’re back, but he carefully avoids telling anyone where they’re going. If their friends don’t know where they are, they can’t tell anyone about it either, especially not Nilfgaard. He prepares their guest room for Cirilla, just in case Geralt drags the poor girl along, because he doubts that either him or Yennefer will be able to do fuck all after this, if they even survive. Then he sits down with Yennefer, carefully looking over the battle map again and picking out a route that will be both fast and safe enough for them, avoiding settlements but never going too far away from civilization either, just in case they’ll need help.

They both retire to their rooms early. Jaskier still has to turn the pile of belongings that he made yesterday into a pack that he can actually use for traveling, and when he still feels too restless to go to bed afterwards he works on making more arrows. Finally, he feels exhausted enough to sleep.

\---

They’re at the spot they picked for Jaskier to set up camp and watch while Yennefer goes ahead and does battle stuff. They arrived right on time, Nilfgaard should be there in two days, and if it wasn’t for the forest they could probably already see the armies marching from the cliff they’re standing on. It’s early in the day still, but Yennefer wants to spend the night here before riding the rest of the way tomorrow. Jaskier is grateful. He wants to enjoy one last day with his friend before they say goodbye without knowing when, or if, they’ll see each other again.

They sit in front of the fire, huddled together as close as they can, both for warmth and just general comfort, when Yennefer pulls out a small metal box and puts it in his lap. Jaskier raises an eyebrow at her.

“Your Xenovox? I thought Triss had the other one.”

“She does, but she promised to give it back once I’m at Sodden Hill. I don’t think I’ll have enough chaos left to portal back here, or do much of anything, really, after this is over. It’s why you’re here and not fighting with us in the first place, remember? I’ll need someone to pick me up. Truth be told, all of us will”, she sighs. She’s not scared, exactly, just… risk-aware. But there’s a reason why the mages decided to fight now, and she’s determined to do her part to contribute to the freedom of the continent.

“I know. I wish I could go with you, Yen. Waiting here and doing nothing is going to drive me mad.”

“Two days, Jask. Three, at most. Then you can call me, and find me, and whoever else makes it through this, and then we can go back home until spring comes and you leave on your own accord.”

Jaskier blinks at her. “How do you know I wanted to go out on the road again in spring?”

“Oh please. First of all, I’m your friend, and I know you well enough to realize that you have a serious problem with staying in one place. Second, I’m a mage.”

Jaskier snorts. “Can’t keep away from my thoughts, can you? You know, there’s this thing called privacy, I know human values are beneath you, but…”

They bicker until it gets dark, neither of them willing to talk about the future anymore. The next day, Yennefer rides away before dawn without waking Jaskier up. He’ll worry more than enough the next days, no need to wake him up to overthink earlier than necessary.

\---

The whole field is burning, illuminating the place as if it was a bright summer’s day. Jaskier can’t look away, the sight hauntingly beautiful. Whoever wields that much power, he hopes it’s not Yennefer, because even with his limited knowledge of magic, he knows that no one should be able to survive using that much chaos.

Of course, it ends up being Yennefer.

\---

Jaskier has spent a whole day combing through the battlefield. He’s found Yennefer first, going straight to the source of the sudden sea of fire to see if whoever did that survived. He sends her back to the fort on his horse with another mage, Tissaia.

He doesn’t find any other survivors, which isn’t all that surprising, considering that everything is burned to a crisp, and when night falls he goes to the fort, too, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Yennefer is awake already.

She isn’t, of course, but she’s still alive. So are Triss, and Sabrina, and a few others who have stayed to protect the ruins. It’s a small group, but it’s better than nothing. Jaskier hands out potions and helps stitching up wounds, one of the skills he’s picked up from traveling with Geralt.

It takes another day before Yennefer wakes up, and another two before she’s okay enough to make their way back home again.

\---

The ride back takes a whole week more than it took them to get from their cottage to Sodden Hill, mostly because Yennefer can’t stay awake and riding for more than a couple hours at a time the first few days. Jaskier does his best to take care of her. He gets a fire going wherever they set up camp. He hunts for them. When they run into a pack of hungry wolves, he takes care of that, too, not that the half-starved creatures are much of a challenge. At night, they share their blankets to keep Yennefer warm, her body still too exhausted to fight off the cold when she sleeps. 

They hardly talk, Yennefer too focused on staying awake and on her horse to do much else, and Jaskier too busy keeping watch. There aren’t many travelers on the road during this time of the year, but that just means that bandits and animals alike get desperate.

It’s gruelling. Jaskier has never hated being on the road more than he does right now. He decides that he won’t travel by horse or foot during winter ever again, because even without the added task of taking care of Yen, being stuck in a snowstorm at least once a week just isn’t his idea at fun.

When they finally get back, he almost cries from joy. That is, until he sees smoke coming from his chimney. For a moment he worries about bandits, but when he takes the horses to the stable and almost gets bitten by a familiar brown mare, he knows that no one broke into their cottage. Geralt is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was super rushed, i know. I just don't like writing detailed battle descriptions, or retell the events from the show in too much detail. I hope you still get that they're traveling around 5 weeks in total, even with all the time skips and shit. traveling takes so fucking long without modern technology.
> 
> next chapter is probably going to be a bit slower again, and we'll get another geralt update.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's Geralt again!

Geralt spends the night at Triss’ place, which is surprisingly nice. Without Jaskier to nag him about staying at inns when they can he doesn’t even remember the last time he slept in an actual bed, or took a hot bath using soap instead of going for a quick swim in a river and hoping that the water will make him cleaner instead of simply changing his smell from old sweat to old, stinky water. There’s warm food that consists of meat and vegetables and grain, no choose one, maybe two if you’re feeling especially luxurious. On top of that, knowing that Jaskier is alive and well, even if all he has is Triss’ word, lets him sleep without any of his reoccurring nightmares. He wakes up more rested than he has since spring when he sent Jaskier away.

In the morning, he eats porridge made with milk instead of water, and despite winter approaching fast there’s fresh fruits in it, and some spices, and honey. Geralt isn’t someone who needs luxury, but after months without even the smallest of comforts even he has to admit that this is so much better than his usual breakfast.

Before he leaves, Triss gives him a small compass. The needle points north, like any good compass needle should, and Geralt raises an eyebrow. 

“You know that I am capable of navigating the wilderness without this, right?”, he asks.

“I know! Which is why I’m confident that you will find princess Cirilla. Once you do, she can use this to find Yennefer’s house for you, or, well, Jaskier. Same thing, really, at this point. They have a safe place for the cub to stay for a while, probably. Now out you go, Cintra is waiting for you!”

Triss sounds entirely too cheerful while she pats his shoulder and ushers him out the door. Geralt doesn’t even try to resist. All mages he’s ever known are so… cocksure, and stubborn, and really, it’s easier to just go along with whatever they do, especially when it lines up with your own goals anyway - even if the only reason your goals line up is blackmail.

So he leaves, his head filled with new thoughts about Jaskier. Why on earth was he still with Yennefer? It makes sense for the bard to stick with her for protection, maybe, but Yennefer would never agree to be a bard’s companion without getting something really, really lucrative out of it. Besides, after eight months together they probably hate each other more than ever. 

He hopes that the Cintra thing ends quickly, because he needs answers.

\---

For some reason Geralt has hoped that Calanthe started to believe in destiny after Pavetta’s betrothal. Not that he has, he still doesn’t believe that he’s linked to the lion cub by destiny, but, well, Calanthe isn’t him.

When he gets thrown into a cell instead of being entrusted with Cintra’s heir, he knows that his hope was foolish. He gets it, though. Who in their right mind would just give their granddaughter to a random guy who hasn’t visited in fourteen years? 

It’s inconvenient. Every hour he spends in this cell is another hour for Nilfgaard to advance. Another hour for Yennefer to do who knows what with Jaskier, wherever they are. 

It takes Nilfgaard’s arrival and Mousesack’s intervention for him to actually get out of his cell, which is absurd. Since when did he have to wait for others to rescue him? At least he’s free now. Time to find a fleeing princess. How hard can it be to spot a young noble woman out of her element?

Really fucking hard, as it turns out.

\---

It takes him two weeks until he finally finds Cirilla. She looks like shit, skinny and exhausted and her hair stiff with grease and dirt. Not that Geralt looks much better, but for him, this is normal. The second he sees her, something shifts, though. And even though she’s never seen him before she lunges herself at him for a hug. Geralt can almost feel the thrum of magic around them when he wraps his arms around her. Huh. Maybe, just maybe, destiny isn’t a myth after all.

“Found you”, he grumbles in her hair.

She detangles herself from him few seconds later, looking embarrassed by her actions.

“You’re Geralt of Rivia”, she states.

“Hmm. And you’re Cirilla of Cintra.”

“Just Ciri”, she stops for a moment, then adds: “And Fiona, while we’re traveling.”

\---

They make camp as soon as they find a safe spot, Ciri clearly needing a break. They haven’t spoken much after their introduction, and it feels awkward. Usually silence doesn’t bother Geralt, but then again, usually he isn’t travelling with someone quiet. He wonders if this is what it would’ve felt like if Jaskier had listened to him and shut up for once, and suddenly misses the bard and all his noise even more. Jaskier would probably know what to do with a traumatized young girl, too. He really hopes that Triss’ compass will work, because if it doesn’t, he won’t just have to deal with his worries but also Cirilla. What do you even do with kids?

He sighs and motions for the girl to come over. For now, the only thing he can think of is keeping her distracted. “Do you know how to start a fire? No? Here, I’ll show you.”

\---

Teaching Ciri stuff is surprisingly fun. Whenever they’re not on the road, led by the compass in Ciri’s hands which has stopped pointing north the second she touched it (yet was very reliably pointing in the same direction), they practice basic surviving skills. She’s a fast learner, and soon enough she’s responsible for setting up camp and getting a fire going while he hunts for food.

Traveling with her, however, takes a lot more patience than traveling with Jaskier ever has. He cares about her, and would never push her to go beyond her limits, but for the first time he gets an idea about just how fucking fit Jaskier had been to keep up with a witcher’s pace for years. Ciri isn’t slow by human standards, he realizes that when they travel on roads and routinely pass by other travellers, it’s just that he’s not used to stopping for lunch, and having a break in the afternoon, simply because his human companion cannot physically go on anymore without hurting themselves. He remembers how often he dismissed Jaskiers whining, and begrudgingly respects the bard for his strength to just go on despite everything.

At night, they share his bedroll, partly because he couldn’t afford a new one, partly because it was getting colder and colder and he’s afraid that she’ll freeze to death in her sleep if she’s left alone under his almost threadbare blanket. Usually, he’d be on his way to Kaer Morhen now, hoping that he’ll make it through the mountain pass before the snow blocks it, but this year he just hopes to make it to ‘Yennefer’s place’, wherever that is, before the blizzards start. Hopefully, the sorceress will know that they’re coming and accept them into their home, or at least let Ciri stay and gives him a chance to talk to Jaskier. He doesn’t think that Ciri would survive a whole winter out in the wild.

\---

They’ve been going north-west for almost a week and Ciri is starting to talk a bit more to him. Geralt tries his best to not only listen to her but also reply in more than grunts at least half the time. It’s… hard, at first, to actually verbalize his thoughts, but Ciri smiles encouragingly at him whenever he says more than two sentences in a row, and he can’t help but smile back at her. He thinks he understands why Yennefer desperately wanted a baby, now. 

“So, where exactly is this compass leading us? I know you said ‘some place safe’, but come on, that’s not actually an answer, you have to know more than that!”

Geralt blinks, trying to get out of his thought and return to the world of the living instead.

“If everything works out, it should bring us to the house of an old… acquaintance.” He’s not sure if that’s the right word for either Yennefer or Jaskier, with how they split ways and all, and Ciri doesn’t seem to buy it either.

“Tell me about them.”, she all but demands, and even though he’d rather not he supposes that it’s better if she knows a bit about them before they arrive.

“We’re visiting Yennefer. She’s a mage, probably the most powerful one on the continent. Also the most stubborn one. We had a, hmm, disagreement, the last time we saw each other.”

“You had a fight and haven’t spoken since?”

Geralt grunts. He hates how Ciri just knows things like that, effortlessly reading his silence. It makes him feel as if she can look straight into his head, without even being a mage.

“So I’m right. Who’s the other friend? You said friends, so there have to be at least two. Come on, Geralt, please stop being so stingy with the details!”

Geralt almost chokes on his own spit. ‘Stingy with the details’ was something that Jaskier has said about him before. He didn’t think that that would be a common insult, but apparently, it’s becoming a thing. He takes a deep breath to regain his composure, once again missing his bard even more than usually, before he answers.

“The other is a bard. Maybe you’ve heard his songs before, he’s the one who wrote Toss a Coin. He was the reason I was at Pavetta’s betrothal and got you as a child surprise, you know?”

“We’re seeing Jaskier? Jaskier, the bard? The guy who visited with a gift for me every winter for as long as I can remember?”

“What?!” Geralt almost falls from Roach in surprise. She knows Jaskier? He’s visited her every damn year? It feels like a punch in the gut, just another thing he didn’t know about Jaskier, despite the men claiming to be his best friend. It doesn’t help that Ciri just laughs at him.

\---

It’s some time after the winter solstice when they enter a small town by the sea and their compass suddenly stops working, the needle starting to spin around instead of pointing anywhere when Ciri holds it. Geralt doesn’t dare to hope that they arrived at their destination, but he decides to stop at the inn and ask around, just in case. Ciri just seems glad about the prospect of sleeping inside, even though they can’t afford an actual room and ask if they can sleep in the hayloft above the stable instead. At least it’s dry, and warm from the animals, and they’re out of the wind. Geralt spends another coin on a hot bowl of stew for Ciri and settles for another ration of stale bread and dried meat for himself. Ciri only eats half of the bowl before pushing it towards him, and Geralt doesn’t have it in him to decline a warm meal. 

After their meal, Geralt sends Ciri to look after Roach and go to bed early before he makes his way to the tavern, hoping that if Jaskier and Yennefer even passed though here recently, the barkeep will remember Jaskier.

He can’t believe his luck when the barkeep nods as soon as he hears Jaskier’s name, his whole face turning into one big smile.

“Why, of course I know Jaskier! Showed up here last spring with his mage, what’s her name? Jennifer? Moved into a cottage just out of town, I’ve heard, can’t tell you where exactly. Haven’t seen either of them in a few weeks, best ask Caleb about the details, Jaskier hunts with him and his men most weeks. He’s probably already asleep for tonight, though, just came back from a hunt this afternoon. It’d be best if you’d go to his house tomorrow, you can’t miss it, it’s just down the road, the one with a small workshop attached to it!”

Geralt raises and eyebrow. Jaskier, a hunter? That’s just ridiculous. Then again, a bard arriving during spring with Yennefer would fit the timeline.

“You sure we’re talking about the same person? Brown hair, eyes bluer than most, slender, soft face?”

“Well, I wouldn’t describe him as ‘slender’ or particularly ‘soft’, but, yes, his eyes are very blue, and his hair is brown. The mage had dark hair and purple eyes, if I remember correctly.” The barkeep shrugs and turns around to take care of another customer before Geralt can ask any more questions. 

Not slender? Usually, Geralt would assume that meant that not traveling had made Jaskier gain a few pounds, but also not soft? He’s confused, but there’s not much he can do besides waiting for tomorrow morning and going to Caleb, he muses.

\---

Despite the thoughts swirling in his head Geralt falls asleep easily that night and wakes up feeling well rested. Not feeling like he’ll freeze to death or get eaten by wolfs the second he closes his eyes probably helped with that. Ciri is still asleep next to him, and he smiles at how soft and free of worry she looks like this. Peaceful. He gets up quietly and gets a breakfast ration out of Roach’s saddle bags, leaving it in front of Ciri for whenever she wakes up, before he goes to find Caleb. The girl deserves to sleep in.

Finding Caleb’s house, and, by extension, the man himself, is exactly as easy as the barkeep had said. Geralt knocks on the door, waits for a reply, and lets himself in when he gets one.

He’s standing in a small living area that includes a kitchen. There’s stairs leading up, probably to a bedroom, and a door on the wall that’s connected to the workshop. A man with salt and pepper hair is standing in front of the stove, stirring something that smells like porridge. He looks up when he hears Geralt approaching and smiles at him when he sees him. No fear, nothing. Suddenly, Geralt can imagine this man being friends with Jaskier.

“Oh! You must be Geralt of Rivia!”, he exclaims. “Jaskier has warned us that you might show up while he’s gone.”

“Caleb, is it? Do you know where he is now?” Geralt moves a bit closer, unwilling to awkwardly stand next to the door any longer.

“Dunno. Sit, we can talk over breakfast.”

Geralt obliges, if only because free breakfast is always nice, and Caleb gets them both a bowl of porridge and a mug of hot milk before sitting down at the table, too.

“So, Jaskier…”, Geralt reminds him when Caleb doesn’t continue talking.

“Yeah, right. He’s traveling with Yennefer, didn’t tell me where to. They left about three weeks ago and said it shouldn’t take more than a month and a half. Must be traveling far, though, they even got Yennefer another horse, apparently they’re riding.”

“Hmm.” Nothing, absolutely nothing about that makes any sense. Why are they traveling when they’re expecting him? Why are they riding when Yennefer is fully capable of using portals even for long distances? What’s important enough to hit the road in the middle of the winter? He hopes they’re save. Even though he knows that Yennefer is a capable mage, Jaskier is just a fragile little human, and the conditions aren’t safe for traveling.

“You really don’t know what made them leave the safety of their home in the middle of the winter?”, he asks again, even though he didn’t sense any lies from Caleb so far. Maybe if he knows why they’d risk this he can figure out where they’re going. Though, with how Ciri is doing and how little coin he has left, he doubts they’d get very far.

The man shakes his head. “Sorry, they were pretty secretive about it. They left a message for you with Liam, though, maybe he knows more. And… you can stop worrying, you know? Jaskier is more than capable to find his way in a snowstorm. I’ve never seen anyone take to hunting this fast, barely took him a month until we didn’t have to look after him at all anymore on our trips. Really good shoot, too. Between him and a mage, they’ll be okay.”

Geralt just stares at him. It’s the second time that he’s heard about Jaskier as a hunter, but his brain can’t comprehend it, at all. The thought of Jaskier being even passable with a bow and arrow is wild, but him, living out in the woods, being able to read tracks, finding shelter, killing and gutting and skinning animals? Jaskier, who loves hot baths and scented oils and huge roast dinners and parties at courts? Who sleeps with almost anyone, giving his whole heart for a night, if it means getting a comfortable bed? The image he has of Jaskier just doesn’t fit anything he’s heard about him here.

\---

Caleb brings Ciri and him to Liam in the afternoon. Liam is a fisherman who lives down by the docks, his shoulders almost as broad as Geralt’s own, and his hair has the same color as Ciri’s. His smile towards them is a bit reserved, but friendly enough, and, once again, they’re invited inside and told to sit down, this time getting a cup of watered down mulled and spiced cider. Liam starts talking without being asked about Jaskier, though.

“So. You made it, and your timing is as terrible as Jaskier thought it would be. Honestly, the guy hasn’t left his house for more than a few days at a time since moving here, until now, and of course that’s when you arrive.”

Geralt hums, not sure what to say to that. Ciri has reverted back to her quiet state, still not trusting any strangers.

“He’s graciously left a key to his cottage for you, though. Despite the fact that you don’t deserve it, from what I’ve heard. He’s prepared the guestroom for the girl before he left, and told me that ‘Geralt can sleep in Gertrude’s stable for all I care, if he steps foot into my room I’ll have Yennefer hex him’. Make of that what you want. I’m supposed to bring you to their cottage, if you decide to stay. If you leave before they get back, you’re to leave the key with me again. He also said that you’d ask where they are, and that I should tell you that it’s none of your business. He didn’t tell me either, though, so no matter how hard you try, I can’t tell you more.”

All of this seems so… well-planned. But the thought of Jaskier owning a house with Yennefer? Something is deeply wrong here, and he will figure out what it is. For now, though, he gets his saddle bags and Roach from the inn before following Liam to the cottage.

\---

They decide to stay at the cottage, a cozy little place, until either spring comes or Yennefer and Jaskier are back. The weather just gets worse and worse every day, and while Geralt might have a chance on the road, Ciri wouldn’t survive.They share the guest room, even though they discovered two perfectly useable bedrooms upstairs. One of them belongs very obviously to a mage, and the faint smell of violets and gooseberries that lingers in the air makes him believe that this is actually Yennefer’s room. The other, though, is a mystery. Sure, there are things that are obviously Jaskier. There’s a small collection of instruments and the empty lute stand, indicating that he took his lute with him. There are notebooks filled with song ideas and poems, all in his handwriting. The clothes in the chest at the end of the bed carry his scent, and he even recognizes some of the outfits. Others don’t look like anything he’s ever seen on Jaskier – browns and greys, all practical, a few pieces of light armor, well taken care off. Gloves for archery. He even finds a spare hunting knife and a matching pair of daggers, as well as supplies to craft arrows.

He doesn’t know what to make of any of it, but he takes the daggers downstairs to teach Ciri how to use them. Teaching Ciri is what keeps him sane while they wait. While there’s no signs of danger he’s on edge, always waiting for something terrible to happen, though he has no idea what. Everything is just so bizarre about the whole situation.

Every couple of days Caleb comes by with fresh food for them, mostly meat from hunts, all paid for in advance by a Jaskier that Geralt can’t even imagine. He tells stories about the bard whenever he stops by that just seem… wrong. Stories about how Jaskier rebuilt half of this very house by himself, about how he helped hunting a giant wild boar, about how he took care of some drowners with Liam and the hunters. Apparently Jaskier does use the daggers he’s found, regularly. Stories about parties and, when Ciri isn’t in the room, sexual escapades, too, which does sound a lot more like the frivolous bard he knows. Geralt’s head is overflowing with thoughts and all he can do is sit and wait and hope that whatever Jaskier and Yennefer are doing now, they’re safe, and they’ll come back soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might actually stop posting daily and instead upload every second day because my boyfriend is staying with me for the forseeable future, which means i have things to do besides losing myself in witcher related things with my roommate! I'll still write as much as I can, though, i want to be done writing so i can move on to the next story ^^'
> 
> you can still come talk to me on [tumblr](https://www.emotionalumami.tumblr.com) !


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a long time to decide if i want this chapter to be Geralt's PoV or Jaskier's. In the end, i didn't really choose one and just wrote both. I'll upload Jaskier's PoV here, but you can read Geralt's perspective in the next work of the series in, like, ten minutes when i get the settings right.
> 
> also tw for animal death, skip from "The snow has turned into icy rain..." until the next --- if you want to skip it

Jaskier takes his time looking after the horses, and Yennefer, bless her heart, stays in the stable with him despite obviously belonging in her bed. She’s just sitting on a hay bale, back against the wall, dozing off a few times while Jaskier talks to all three horses softly. He brushes them, even Roach, who stops snapping at him once he feeds her a few slices of dried apples. A little bit of bribery has always worked wonders on her.

Eventually, though, he’s done everything he can do in the stable, which means he needs to go inside and face Geralt. He sighs, grabs their saddle bags and gently shakes Yennefer to wake her up. She still looks rather dazed, though, and he can’t quite blame her, they really pushed it today once he realized that they had a chance of getting home before dark. In the end, he pulls her up and wraps his free arm around her shoulder to keep her steady, and she makes the most adorable sleepy noise a powerful mage like her is capable of.

They enter through the side door, going straight into their kitchen. Geralt is sitting at their table, cutting vegetables, but jumps to his feet once they enter, pushing his chair back hard enough in the process that it falls over. Then he just… stands there, staring at them. His eyes wander over Jaskier’s body, and he licks his lips in an almost anxious gesture, and if this was anyone else, Jaskier would think he’s being ogled. With Geralt, though, the sheer notion of that is ridiculous. It feels awkward, though, and he gets that urge to say something, anything, to break the silence. At the same time, he wants to Geralt to say something first, so he settles for just staring back, raising one eyebrow in what is supposed to be a challenge. 

In the end, neither of them breaks the silence. Instead, Ciri pokes her head out of the door of the guest room, spots him, and shrieks. Jaskier has about half a second to brace himself and drop the bags he’s holding before she comes running and slams into him at full speed. It makes him stagger, but luckily, he manages to stay upright. He even manages to pick up both her and Yennefer, still pressed against his other side, and twirl them around once before setting them back down. It makes Ciri giggle in delight and Geralt’s stare more intense.

“Ciri! I’m so glad you’re here, little cub”

She huffs. “I’m not little anymore!”

“Oh, really? Well, in that case, go make be a useful adult and get out bags upstairs while I get Yen into bed.”

“Bed sounds great”, Yennefer mumbles into his shoulder before closing her eyes again.

\---

Jaskier doesn’t want to go back downstairs, not sure what to do with the witcher in his kitchen, so he unpacks his bags after Yennefer falls asleep in her bed. Then he goes straight for a bath without stopping to check on Geralt. Eventually, it’s his hunger that drives him out of the warm water. After some careful consideration he dresses in his warmest doublet, which happens to be deep red, and matching trousers. After spending so much time on the road, wearing something clean that isn’t just practical feels great. He still grabs his belt with his favorite dagger and hunting knife and slips a small knife in his boot out of habit, though. It makes him feel a bit calmer to carry the weapons around, even though he’s under no illusion that he could actually fight off a witcher in hand to hand combat.

Only then does he feel ready for dinner with Geralt and Ciri. He’ll do his best to neither yell nor use Ciri as a buffer for the conversation that they’re about to have.

\---

Dinner is quiet and tense, neither of them willing to talk about anything important with Ciri sitting between them. Only once she retires to the guest room, desperate to leave the uncomfortable situation, do they actually start to talk.

“Heard you were essentially trying to stalk me until Triss had mercy on you”, Jaskier starts, and, well, it’s not a very diplomatic start, but Geralt still hasn’t really said anything to him since he got here, and he hasn’t even made an attempt at apologizing, and that just won’t do. He deserves an apology, and then some grovelling, and then Geralt needs to do a lot better, or else this winter will be horrible.

“I… was worried. After the mountain, you just vanished, and I thought… I thought something happened to you, we always run into each other. I thought you were dead.”

Geralt looks down, and Jaskier gets the sudden urge to punch him. Geralt doesn’t get the right to worry abut him after sending him away. 

“What’s it to you? Last I recall, you wanted to get rid of me, very very desperately. I thought that after you almost killed me with a djinn wish, maybe you realized that you actually care about me, but then you ignore me for Yennefer for several days and then wish me out of your life, and then you stalk me to the point of visiting my parents – my parents, Geralt! I haven’t talked to them in ages! – and now all you have to say is that you were worried?!”, Jaskier’s voice is getting louder with every word, though he tries to reign himself in. Geralt might deserve his wrath, but Yennefer deserves to sleep, and the cub doesn’t need to hear this either.

“I… I didn’t mean what I said on the mountain. I didn’t want you to leave. Life without you is… wrong. Too quiet. I missed your singing, and your chatting, and the way you took care of me after a fight.”

Geralt gets more and more quiet with every word, seemingly shrinking in on himself, and it makes it hard to stay angry at a man who looks like a kicked puppy, but it’s still not an apology, and it doesn’t seem like Geralt realizes how fucked up their friendship was before the mountain, either. But Geralt probably won’t realize what he wants until Jaskier tells him, just because he’s so socially inept. If it was anyone else, Jaskier would say it’s wilful ignorance, something more malicious than being an oaf. But Geralt has always been terrible with socializing, and this is no different, so he sighs and gets over himself.

“If you want to stay here for the winter, I expect an apology. Make it good. Get on your knees if you want me to stop being angry, I guess. Tomorrow, you’ll go and apologize to Yennefer, too, for the djinn bullshit. And then you’ll apologize to Ciri for not being a part of her childhood for good measure. If, and only if, all of your apologies are satisfactory, you can stay, I guess.”

Geralt blinks, the most shocked, dumbfounded expression on his face that Jaskier has ever seen, and it makes him want to hit him again. Did Geralt seriously think he’d get away with this without an apology? What an arrogant, condescending prick! Maybe he should just kick him out regardless, but then Ciri would be less protected and more alone, and they can’t have that.

To his surprise, Geralt gets on his knees before him without further complaints, though. There’s something desperate in his eyes, and some sadistic part of Jaskier likes that a bit more than he probably should. He can see Geralt swallowing, his hands nervously fiddling with the hem of his shirt in a way he’s never done before. Fidgeting is Jaskier’s thing. Geralt doesn’t fidget. He takes a big breath as if to calm himself before finally looking up to meet his eyes.

“I am sorry, Jaskier. I… I made a mistake, sending you away, and I regret it every day. You were a blessing to my life, my best and only friend, even if I didn’t realize that until you were gone. I learned my lesson, and I’m sorry.”

It’s… not perfect, but surprisingly long and eloquent for Geralt’s standards. He supposes that it’s good enough for now, so he gives a small nod. Jaskier doesn’t know what he expected, really, but he doesn’t magically feel better after hearing this. Sure, it’s nice to know that Geralt was wrong, that he’s actually liked, but he already knows that he’s likeable. He has enough close friends to prove it. What he really wants is for Geralt to prove that he means it, for Geralt to earn his trust again, because they were best friends for twenty years, even if it was a dysfunctional friendship, and Jaskier misses him too.

“Apology accepted, I guess. I… I miss you too, Geralt, but I refuse to go back to what we were”, he sighs and gets up, leaving Geralt kneeling on the floor while he makes his way to his bed. He had an exhausting couple of weeks, and an emotionally taxing evening, and all he wants is to curl up in his bed and sleep forever.

\---

The next couple of days they tiptoe around each other. Something in Geralt has shifted, and it seems like he’s trying his hardest to earn his stay. When he’s not training with Ciri or exercising on his own he takes care of the tasks no one else really wants to do – he cleans the dishes, does all of their laundry with water from the well, leaving his knuckles a pale blue, looks after the horses, makes breakfast before anyone else is even up. Jaskier understands it as an odd form of peace offering, and while it’s a strange sight, he’s not complaining. 

Yennefer is starting to look a bit more alive, now that she can actually rest instead of spending whatever energy she could recover overnight on traveling. Jaskier is relieved, now that they’re safe he can admit that it scared the living shit out of him to see someone as composed and powerful as Yennefer fall asleep while riding several times. 

Jaskier takes two days to just sit around and do nothing besides writing notes on Sodden Field, sitting in front of a warm fire and drinking hot milk with honey and taking a bath at night. He missed being warm, and comfortable, and he needs to bask in it for a bit before he gets too restless to truly appreciate it again. Once his notes are done, though, he sends them off to Oxenfurt for one of the history professors. They will be able to turn this into a coherent book, something that is more factual than the songs that Jaskier is going to write about this. Yennefer deserves a new song about her, the last one he wrote about her was ‘Her Sweet Kiss’, finished just a few days before she decided to portal him away with her, which made the whole heartache and jealousy theme he had felt after their unfortunate first meeting obsolete. He should play her ‘Her Sweet Kiss’ anyways, he muses, she’d get a kick out of it and a good laugh and she deserves to make fun about him if it makes her laugh.

Now that the writing and resting is done, though, he wants to get out again. He asks Caleb when the next hunt is, and finds out that most of the men still have enough to feed themselves for several days and no one is particularly keen on freezing their asses off needlessly. So he tries to see if Liam is up for a sparing session only to find out that he’s out on sea with Rowena for at least another week. He busies himself with mending his clothes, fixing armor pieces and making new arrows, but at night he still has a hard time sleeping from the pent up energy.

\---

The next morning, Geralt is in the bath, leaving him with Yennefer and Ciri. The girl is getting more and more comfortable around the sorceress, and Jaskier is glad about it. He’s visited Ciri every year before going to Oxenfurt for the winter, leaving her with fond memories of him and stories of Geralt, so she sort of trusts him, but Yennefer can probably teach her a lot about controlling her chaos, and it’s good to see them get along.

When Geralt is still in the tub after breakfast, he gets an idea for a morning activity.

“Hey Ciri. Did the fool ever teach you how to ride or is court approved riding all you know?”

“I. Uh. I know how to ride the way that my grandma did”, she replies, confused by the question.

Right, Calanthe’s war obsession probably left the girl with decent riding skills that other noble women would never get. 

“Then ride with me. I need to get out, and Ladybug and Bonnie could use some exercise, too. Just a quick trip along the coast, nothing wild, it’ll be fun!”, he beams at her, and he can see that she’s already convinced, but then she hesitates.

“I should probably ask Geralt first… He’ll worry when he gets out and I’m gone…”

“Then let him worry. Yennefer can tell him that we’re out riding together, and if he doesn’t like you doing your own thing from time to time then that’s his issue.”

Ciri rolls her eyes. “You just want to get under his skin. Fine, but I’m only coming because it does sound fun. If he’s angry later then that’s your issue.”

“Deal.”

\---

They come back hours later, faces red from the cold and their toes numb, but laughing until they see Geralt pacing through the kitchen. Yennefer looks exasperated, sitting at the table and handling some potion ingredients. As soon as they’re through the door Geralt throws himself at Ciri.

“Your okay! You were gone for hours, I was so worried, I thought you got lost, oh my god you’re okay!” He holds her in a bone crushing embrace, and Yennefer just snorts.

“Told you they’re fine”, Yen says without looking up. It sounds like she’s said that sentence at least a hundred times over the past few hours, and Jaskier feels a bit sorry for her.

Geralt scowls, then he lets go of a clearly embarrassed Ciri, who clearly has opinions on this, too.

“Look, Jaskier was with me, I can defend myself, no one knows we’re here and no one is crazy enough to go out for fun besides us right now, stop looking like I just jumped off a cliff for fun. I’m fourteen, Geralt, and I have a grand total of zero friends outside of this house, you can’t lock me in here and expect me to be happy!”

Geralt just stares at them with wide eyes, then looks down, and, oh, is that a blush on his cheeks? Jaskier has to bite back a laugh at what has to be embarrassed Geralt.

“Hmm. Maybe I overreacted”, he mumbles, and Ciri just rolls her eyes at him with fondness.

\---

A few days later, Geralt asks him if they can go hunt together. They’re out of fresh meat, and Caleb is still not up for more than setting up a few traps, so Jaskier agrees even though it feels like a terrible idea.

They leave early, long before sunrise. The snow has turned into icy rain sometime during the night and both Roach and Ladybug aren’t exactly happy about leaving the warmth of their stable, but they oblige. To his surprise, Geralt lets him take the lead, and he makes his way to the forest part he usually hunts in. The woods are familiar to him by now, and he moves through the trees with ease. He knows all the places where the deer usually grazes at this time, and it doesn’t take him long to find a herd, and within it, a doe that’s a bit behind the others, limping slightly. This is going to be their dinner for the next few days, Jaskier decides the moment he spots her. Before Geralt can even get his crossbow out, he kills it with a single arrow.

The rest of the herd spooks and flees when Jaskier approaches to get the body. He throws it over his shoulders, hardly aware of the weight. Geralt is staring at him when he turns back, the same expression in his eyes that he already had when he first came back home, and, again, licks his lips. It’s mesmerizing in a way it shouldn’t be. Now that he’s not as tired, Jaskier can feel that glance doing things to him, and it’s unfortunate, because even though he still doesn’t trust the witcher with his feelings again, his dick is apparently as interested in him as always. Just that Geralt isn’t interested in him that way. Surely, that glance means something else. Maybe surprise that he’s a capable hunter. That must be it.

\---

He starts to teach Ciri how to use a bow, and soon enough Geralt swallows his pride and admits that he’s not terribly good at shooting and asks to join their practice. Jaskier bites his lip but agrees. He’ll just talk Ciri into joining him when he’s composing to get some alone time with her without Geralt around.

Though, he’s getting more and more comfortable around the man again. Geralt is trying so hard, and it shows. When Jaskier says something, he usually answers with at least a few words rather than just a grunt. Sometimes he starts conversations without being asked. He trusts him to go out with Ciri, and, when they’re a bit tipsy, even requests a song from him. It’s what they should’ve been from the beginning, and Jaskier is torn between holding a rightful grudge or falling deeper in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you want to read Geralt's pov, just head over to the next work. it probably makes him a little bit more likeable tbh.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again a tw for recreational drug use. not sure you can skip this one without this chapter losing it's meaning, but it's from "The festival is... well it's something" to "Oh, now we're friends?"

Spring is approaching fast, and with it the prospect of leaving again. Geralt knows that he needs to return on the path, partly because it’s his damned job, the very reason he exists, but also because he’s starting to feel locked in rather than comforted by being in an actual house once the winter is over. He wonders if Jaskier is going to return to the road, too, or if he’s settled down for good. But when the croci start to bloom and Jaskier somehow grows more restless than Geralt himself he knows that Jaskier isn’t the type to settle down permanently, either. He wants to ask if Jaskier will join him on the Path again, but it feels like too much to ask too early, so he waits.

He does, however, talk with Ciri and Yennefer about leaving Ciri here and coming back in fall. It’s the sensible thing to do, and they all know it; it gives the two of them time to work on Ciri’s magical abilities while he can go out without worrying about anyone recognizing Ciri as Cintra’s lost princess. Just thinking about it makes him miss the girl, and when he first voices the idea Ciri cries, but it won’t be forever. 

Yennefer convinces him to stay until the equinox festival so he can celebrate with them.

\---

It’s one of the first bright and sunny days and though it’s still freezing cold Jaskier is outside sparring with his friends. Geralt is watching through the kitchen window, and he has to admit that they’re not bad. All of them have their own unique strengths and use them mercilessly. There’s no flourish or extravagance about it, and besides not injuring each other seriously there don’t seem to be any rules, honour obviously not something that’s important here. It certainly evens the playing field – the woman, Owen? Robin? Something with an o, he thinks – is probably a whole foot shorter than Liam, and significantly lighter than both him and Jaskier, but she stands her ground against both of them. It’s fun to watch. It also does things to him to see Jaskier slowly circling Liam, steps quick but secure, dodging more than actually fighting, until Liam gets tired and sluggish with his movements and Jaskier can easily break his defences to hit him.

It’s even more fun once Ciri joins them, rolling through the mud with Jaskier, both laughing too much to win the fight. He misses sparring with Eskel and Lambert. Maybe he should just… join them. He’s still not sure how much Jaskier likes him and how much he’s merely tolerated for Ciri’s sake, and Liam openly dislikes him for hurting Jaskier, even if it was almost a year ago, but if he doesn’t ask, he’ll never know.

He gets dressed in warm, yet old and already dirty clothes before he joins them. For a few minutes he just watches as the woman presses Liam’s face into the ground and brings her training weapon to his neck while Jaskier has finally won his fight with Ciri by tickling her sides. Geralt smiles at the sight.

It’s that exact moment that Jaskier notices him and smiles back at him just as brightly before getting up and gesturing for him to come closer.

“Want to join us? We promise we’ll go easy on you”, he grins at Geralt, mischief sparkling in his eyes, and Geralt easily falls into a wider stance.

“Come at me, then”, he replies, a challenge, but Jaskier just falls into a more stable stance himself and raises his dagger, waiting for him to make the first move. Smart, that way he can probably use Geralt’s own body weight against him.

It only takes a few attempts for him to realize that Jaskier is as capable with a dagger as he is with his bow. It takes him several attempts until he’s finally able to pin Jaskier down, an impressive feat considering his witcher strength and reflexes.

He’s straddling Jaskier’s hips, the bard breathing heavily beneath him, face flushed from the exercise and the cold air. His face is full of mud and there’s several sticks poking out of his hair. It’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and he can feel his own blush creeping up. Jaskier’s eyes fly to his lips for a second before he’s staring right back at him with his big, cornflower blue eyes. It’s a breath-taking sight, and Geralt needs to get away before he can do something stupid like kiss him and ruin their careful peace. He jumps back to his feet and takes a step back.

“I, hm, should go help Yennefer with dinner”, he mumbles, even though it’s barely afternoon yet, and all but runs back inside, slamming the door behind himself on accident.

When he looks back out through the window, he can see Jaskier still sitting on the ground, staring at the door, a lost expression on his face.

\---  
After that, they seem to run into each other even more. Jaskier asks him to come along when he goes to play at the tavern, or when he spends a day at the beach with his friends, or when he goes riding with Ciri. Geralt has no idea what it means, but he takes what he can get. They only have two weeks left before they’re both leaving for the warmer season, and he still doesn’t know if he should ask Jaskier about traveling together – or, if he does ask, how. Or how to handle a possible rejection. 

He tries asking Yennefer for help, but she just shrugs and tells him to figure out why he wants to travel with the bard first. It’s an interesting question, and he doesn’t want to think about it too much.

\---

It’s the equinox and Jaskier insists that all of them need a bath before the festivities. Only, Yennefer and Ciri have hogged the bathroom for what feels like ages, and they need to get out in about an hour, and neither Jaskier nor him are bathed yet.

Jaskier is pacing through the kitchen, making Geralt nervous even though it’s just a goddamn bath when finally, finally the bath door opens. Yennefer and Ciri are both wrapped in towels, giggling together, before looking at Jaskier and Geralt, who are still sweaty and smelly. There’s pieces of hay in their hair from cleaning out the stables in the morning. Yennefer and Ciri just exchange a slightly guilty glance before giggling again and sprinting upstairs to get ready in Yen’s room.

Geralt clears his throat. “So. Uh. Which one of us goes first?”, he asks, suddenly feeling awkward. Not so long ago – for witcher standards anyway – they would’ve just shared the bath. Now he doesn’t dare to suggest that as a possibility.

Jaskier looks at him as if he’s said something incredibly stupid.

“We both go first? I’m not letting you go to town smelling like horse!”, he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Hmm, so maybe they are at the point where they can share a bath between… acquaintances? Again. Geralt just nods in agreement, stunned into silence by Jaskier’s confidence once again, and follows him into the bathroom.

Jaskier doesn’t even wait for him to close the door behind himself before he’s out of his shirt and trousers. By the time Geralt has managed to lock the door he’s already in the tub, water still smelling like Yennefer’s soap and Ciri’s hair oil. Geralt tries very hard not to stare, but he hasn’t actually seen Jaskier naked, or even shirtless, in a year, and now he has all of that new muscle mass, and how could he possibly not stare a little? He pointedly keeps his gaze from wandering too far below the water, though.

Jaskier splashes water at him. “Stop ogling and get into the water, you oaf. You can watch me after the festival if it’s that unbelievable that I have some muscle mass.”

Geralt furrows his eyebrows. Surely Jaskier doesn’t mean that. His mind can’t help imagining Jaskier, naked for him, tired but happy after playing and dancing with his friends for a night. He needs to think of something different, fast, so he pictures the last drowner he killed before his blood can make its way from his face to other body parts.

\---

The festival is... well, it's something. The townsfolk don't just celebrate; the equinox is about banishing winter for the next six months, and while Geralt doesn't believe in that type of magic, the high spirits are getting to him. 

Yennefer is high and giggly, affectionately plastering herself all over Jaskier, who is still relatively sober, if only because he prefers to drink his herbs as the world's most disgusting tea, 'for his voice', and it takes longer for the drug to affect him that way. Right now, they’re both stuffing their faces with roasted fish with Jaskier’s usual trio of friends.

Ciri has already spent the entire coin on sweets. Jaskier has given her an allowance before they left – ‘tonight is special, treat yourself, you deserve it’, he had said, smirking in a way that told Geralt that something was going on there that he's missing, but he let them have their fun. Ciri obviously doesn’t have any problems following that advice and treating herself, if the way she's still darting from booth to booth anything to judge by. She’s content to just look at things while stuffing her face with something that looks like another honey-glazed puff pastry. Geralt starts to suspect that she's approaching sugar rush territory but decides that fourteen is old enough for her to know when to stop or suffer the consequences of overeating. He remembers the time he got into the pantry with Eskel as kids, eating way too many dried fruits and honeycombs and feeling horrible later. They had been quite a bit younger than Ciri is now, though, and she doesn’t have to fear Vesemir’s punishment.

Eventually, she tires out, or just collapses from overeating, Geralt honestly isn’t sure. Liam offers to let her sleep at his house until they go home and, after getting an encouraging nod from both Jaskier and Geralt, accepts the offer. He brings her to the small house by the docks, even though it’s barely a ten minute walk, and waits until she’s asleep in the guest bedroom before joining Jaskier again. By now, the bard is all giggly and affectionate too, obviously just as high as everyone else. Geralt doesn’t want to take advantage of it, but the way Jaskier practically clings to his arm while dragging him over to the gigantic bonfire is… nice.

Suddenly Yennefer is back at his side and thrusts her pipe into his hands. He takes it reflexively, then raises an eyebrow at her.

“For once in your life, just relax and stop worrying about someone trying to kill all of us. We’ve lived here for a year, Geralt, if they wanted to kill us, they would’ve tried by now.”

He knows she’s right, and, between her and Jaskier, he feels safe in a way that only being at Kaer Morhen can usually make him feel. He feels… at home. It’s an odd thought, to call this place home – though, he muses, it’s less about the place and more about the people. With Yennefer and Jaskier right at his side, he decides to give the herbs a go. Even while high, between the three of them they can easily protect themselves and Cirilla. 

And, alright, a few minutes later he can feel the effects. He doubts they’ll last long, his witcher metabolism always burning through any type of posion faster than a normal human would, but he’s hellbent on enjoying this while it lasts. Jaskier is pulling at his arm again, trying to get his attention. He looks stunning in the light of the fire, and Geralt can’t help staring at the way his blue eyes glimmer in the flickering light. His lips are moving, and it takes a second for him to comprehend what the bard is saying.

“Come on, just one dance! It will be fun! Do it for me”, he looks so hopeful that he can’t say no. He has no idea how to do the fast-paced round dance around the fire that’s currently going on, but how hard can it be? He knows how to move his feet during a fight, this is no different. He’ll catch on soon enough.

It turns out that dancing is harder than it seems, but Jaskier does his best to guide him through it.

“Step left, cross over behind your leg, now turn and a little jump, left, that’s the spirit.”

The bard gives a good-natured chuckle when he stumbles over his own feet, but together they manage to blend in. It’s fun, and soon enough he’s laughing with Jaskier, not even noticing when a new song starts, and then the next, and then another one.

It’s Jaskier who finally pulls them out of the dance again, still grinning at him as if Geralt was his sun, sweaty from the dance.

“Sorry, Geralt, I’m afraid my old human body needs a rest. Maybe some more spiked cider, too.”

“How about a cup of water for the sake of future you, too?”; Geralt suggests, smiling back easily.

“Now that would be very considerate of present me, wouldn’t it? I’ll think about it.”

Geralt laughs, and they make their way back to the booths still selling food and drinks. It’s a lot quieter over there, most people staying close to the fires both for fun and for warmth. It gives him a minute to truly admire Jaskier’s form, and the way he does get both more spiked cider for both of them as well as a pitcher of water. He’s… well, a sensible adult. Thinking back, he’s been one for years, actually, it is Geralt who has missed it when the bard who just graduated from Oxenfurt has turned into someone more mature. Still just as much Jaskier, just with more experience.

Suddenly, he’s painfully aware that this is their last night celebrating together for half a year. Jaskier has told him that he’ll go back to being a traveling bard for the summer a few days ago, and they are both almost ready to leave again, but they won’t leave together. It makes him wonder…

“Jaskier, I know I fucked up last year, but. You are my best friend. Always have been. Am I still your friend?”

It’s something he’d never ask while sober. He wants to take it back, immediately, but it’s too late, the words have left his mouth. Jaskier, however, just smiles at him.

“Oh, now we’re friends?” Geralt flinches. “Shh, just kidding. Geralt, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought if you truly think that one terrible day can ruin twenty years of traveling together forever. I… won’t deny that I resented you, for a while, but I think I never even truly stopped liking you, no matter how angry I was. Plus, you’ve been doing a lot better the last month than ever before. Keep up the good work and I might not be able to resist your witcher charms any longer.”

Jaskier winks at him, and though Geralt knows that his friend is just teasing, he has to swallow. Jaskier still likes him, even though he’s an idiot. Jaskier is still – or once more, or maybe for the first time – his friend. The knowledge makes him braver, or maybe it’s the atmosphere of the spring equinox, the alcohol and the laughter and the knowledge that, even after the coldest winter, spring will come again.

“Travel with me again. Just for a little while, until our ways part naturally.”

Jaskier stares at him for a moment, and Geralt’s heart stops. He’s sure that he’s going to be rejected and braces himself for it, he’s already accepted that he’ll be alone on the path again this year, but it’s going to be different to hear it directly from Jaskier instead of just deciding to leave when he’s ready and come back for another winter with Ciri in six months.

“Alright”, Jaskier says, and Geralt takes a second to really understand the meaning of it before he smiles even brighter.

\---

The next few days pass in a flurry. Both of them are running back and forth between their home and the town more times than they can count, purchasing new equipment and rushing back because there’s always something they forgot. Yennefer turns into an overbearing mother hen, brewing potions that all of them know Geralt can make himself. Cirilla is a moody mess, going between being caught up in their frantic packing one minute and crying about their departure the next. It’s a mess, all of them trying to both get quality time together and finishing everything that needs to get done.

It’s even worse when everything is finally done and the only thing left to do is wait for the next morning. They eat dinner together one last time, a small feast because Jaskier has insisted on enjoying a casserole, a steak and ale pie and some fruit tarts because ‘we won’t have a proper oven to cook those things for six months Geralt, let me have this’.

They say their goodbyes that night before they go to bed. Ciri cries, and when he wakes up at sunrise, she’s curled up in his bed next to him. He’ll miss her so much, but at least he knows that she’ll be safe with Yennefer. He gets up, grabs his saddle bags, and goes to the stable.

Jaskier is already there. The horses are already brushed which makes Geralt wonder just how early he’s woken up, but he’s not going to complain about it. They tack up in silence, both still tired. Finally, there really isn’t anything left to do. Geralt mounts Roach.

“Ready?”, he asks, looking Jaskier over once more.

“Never been readier.”, he replies.

Geralt smirks. Leaving this place may be bitter-sweet, but at least he can take Jaskier with him for a bit longer. He just hopes that he won’t fuck everything up again, now that they get a few days of traveling together, just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting closer to an actual ending! Last chapter will be both of them traveling together, but like, in love.


	10. Chapter 10

Traveling with Geralt is just like it was before the dragon mountain, except in all the ways that it isn’t. For one, they’re traveling so much faster now that they both have a horse. Two, while Geralt still isn’t a big talker, he’s actually listening to him. The biggest difference, however, is that they are traveling as equals now. When Jaskier asks to turn north to the next tavern so he can earn some coin, Geralt doesn’t even argue. When Geralt hunts smaller monsters, Jaskier comes along, keeping his distance and helping with a few well-placed arrows, but when Geralt decides that even that is too dangerous, in case the monster decides to go after Jaskier and ignores Geralt, Jaskier waits as nearby as the witcher allows without protest and gets potions and bandages and salves ready to take care of his witcher afterwards.

It’s everything it should’ve been when they first became friends, and then some, and it makes Jaskier hope that some day, maybe, they’ll finally be more than friends. There’s something between them now, something that isn’t just trusting each other with their lives. Something that feels a bit too close to love. He doesn’t dare to hope too much, though. He just got his friendship with Geralt back to functional, and he’s been pining after the man for twenty years, he can wait this out and see what happens. And if all they’ll ever be is close friends and travel companions, then he’ll settle for that. At least Geralt is a part of his life again, and this time, the care and respect for each other is mutual.

Jaskier had originally planned to leave Geralt the second they had different paths on mind, but instead, he finds himself working out alternative travel routes with the witcher that leave both of them satisfied. It’s an unexpected compromise, but he doesn’t question it. If it gets him more time with Geralt, he’ll take it.

\---

Right now, they’re stopping at a town to replenish their provisions, Jaskier trying to find some dried fruit and vegetables that survive a week or two in a saddlebag.

Geralt is off getting oats for their horses when Jaskier is done with his part of the shopping list and he decides to head back to the inn and request a bath for Geralt and him, just because they haven’t bathed in a while. Geralt will probably tell him that he’s splurging unnecessarily and then join him in the tub anyway. Geralt may be a bit less gruffy to him, but he still doesn’t know how to accept the fact that he, too, deserves nice things just for the sake of enjoying them, so Jaskier just gets nice things for both of them.

If he’s being honest with himself, he loves spoiling his witcher as much as he can. No matter how often Jaskier gets him a little something – his favorite spice mix in a little box so they can use it to cook meat when they camp, a black silk hair tie, some expensive imported fruit that he saw Geralt staring at a little too long – his eyes always light up in surprise, before he tries to refuse, until he finally accepts and smiles the tiniest, purest smile someone as big as Geralt can manage. It’s adorable, and Jaskier wants to see that smile as often as he can.

Geralt returns just on time for the maid to carry up the last bucket of water. Geralt looks at her and frowns a little.

“Did we get that stinky again?”, he asks, and Jaskier just rolls his eyes at him.

“No, but a hot bath on a chilly spring day is nice even if you don’t reek like death and onions. Come on, I used you favorite bath oil, the chamomile one.”

He can see Geralt struggling to just accept this, as always, but in the end he just huffs a little before getting undressed and sliding into the tub with him. Bathing, Jaskier has found years ago, always relaxes the witcher, and Jaskier really, really enjoys watching Geralt turn into pliable mush in the water. Geralt makes one of his pleased hums, and Jaskier smiles, satisfied that his plan works.

They wash each other’s hair, and when Jaskier massages a heavily diluted lavender oil into Geralt’s sculp, it takes all the self-restraint he possesses not to bend down and place a small kiss on the witcher’s temple.

\---

They’re hunting a griffin. Jaskier still can’t believe that Geralt let him join this particular hunt – he’s seen what Geralt looks like after a fight with a griffin, and it’s usually not good. And though this one is only a young one, and already injured from a previous attempt to kill it, he still feels honoured that Geralt thinks he can handle this. Then again, he’s the one who knows how to use a bow well enough to regularly shoot them wild birds for dinner, so maybe Geralt comes back from these hunts looking like shit because he mostly just tries to hit the griffin anywhere to get it to land and then kills it with his sword.

Maybe he should be afraid, but really, self-preservation was never Jaskier’s forte. Truth be told, he’s mostly excited about getting to see the griffin up close and seeing Geralt in action. He’s seen the witcher slay countless of monsters before, but it’s still a magnificent sight, especially when Geralt takes one of the potions that turn his eyes black and his skin even paler. It shouldn’t be attractive, but to Jaskier, it is.

The only one worried about this whole thing seems to be Ladybug. The gelding isn’t a war horse, nor witcher trained like Roach. He’s used to hunting animals that run away from them, not monsters out to kill them, and Jaskier is considering to just dismount, tie him to a tree and continue by foot when the griffin shows up.

“Fuck”, Geralt mutters, and Jaskier couldn’t agree more. Neither of them are ready, they were supposed to have another mile or two ahead of them before running into the beast, but, well, winged creatures aren’t exactly tied to one spot.

Jaskier gets his bow and knocks back an arrow in record time. It’s that exact moment that Ladybug decided that enough is enough and he will not put up with any of this and spooks. Jaskier scarcely manages to pull his boot out of the stirrup when he falls to avoid being dragged over the rocky ground when his horse runs off. The fall still pushes the air out of his lungs and he hits his head. It hurts, but he has something else to worry about right now. Namely, the griffin that’s spotted them and is diving in for an attack.

Jaskier curses and scrambles to get up to his feet. He feels a little dizzy, and he’ll have to ask Geralt to find Ladybug on his own and bring him to a healer for his head later, he’s sure. But first, they have to survive their griffin encounter.

Geralt has his crossbow out, the weapon looking comically small in his massive hands, and he’s trying to aim at the griffin while also shooting worried glances his way. This is never going to work, and they both know it, Geralt isn’t amazing at shooting things from a distance even when he’s actually looking.

“I’m fine, Geralt, focus on the stupid griffin”, Jaskier mutters, but even he can tell that his words are a little slurred. He’s sure that’s not a good sign. Geralt only tenses up more, but he does as he’s told. Jaskier gets his bow out and aims, even though his vision turns a bit fuzzy when he’s looking up like this. He just hopes that Geralt’s usual tactic of ‘just get the damn thing on the ground then stab it with a sword’ is still an option if he fails.

It’s mostly luck, considering how spotty his vision is when he releases his arrow, but somehow it hits the griffin right in the chest. Before Geralt can get into his line of sight he knocks back a second arrow and aims at the griffin’s head. Focusing makes his headache worse, but at least his vision is mostly back to normal when he’s not looking up. It’s worth it, though, when the second arrow goes through the monster’s eye. The beast stops moving.

“What the fuck Jaskier. At this rate you’ll put me out of business”, Geralt complains, sheathing his unused swords again, but he’s smiling the same proud smile that he has whenever Ciri manages to get through his defences and land a blow during their sparing sessions.

Jaskier can’t help the satisfied smirk spreading on his face. Moving his face hurts his head, too though, and he frowns.

“I’m afraid we swapped roles in more ways than one, though. Care to get me to a healer? I think I might have a concussion”, he admits. 

Geralt curses before rushing over and getting them both on Roach. They fall into a light canter, and Jaskier is grateful, not sure if he could handle a full gallop right now.

\---

After the healer proclaims that he’ll need at least a week of rest, Jaskier expects Geralt to leave the second he brings Ladybug back, lingering in a village for two whole weeks after the job is done isn’t something he’s ever done. It’s bad for his coin purse and the villagers still turn wary of him after a while. 

Yet, he stays, for Jaskier. At night, they curl up in their bed together, and Geralt pulls him close and tries to apologize for even bringing him along to a griffin hunt.

“It’s not your fault, Geralt. We should consider getting a more suitable horse for me when we have the money, though”, he replies, because it’s the truth. It’s not even the griffin that hurt him, he just hit his head a little.

Geralt makes an unhappy little noise at the back of his throat. Jaskier sighs and turns to face him, though it’s too dark for him to see he knows that Geralt can.

“Geralt. I am going to be okay. You’ve had much worse after a hunt before. I’d do it all over again if it means that I get to see you all ready for battle again. Just… here”, he pulls one of Geralt’s hands to his chest. The physical contact makes his heart pound immediately, but that’s not the point.

“Feel this? I’m alive. I’m okay. Now stop worrying your pretty head and sleep.” Jaskier can’t keep the fondness out of his voice, even though he tried to go for an exasperated tone.

“Hmm. You think I’m pretty?”, Geralt mumbles after a moment, his hand still under Jaskier’s on his chest. And oh. Jaskier knows that the witcher can feel his heart almost skipping a beat at his words. He lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down a little, because that was flirty. Geralt was flirting. With him.

Before he can say anything stupid, he rolls his eyes. “Yes, I think you’re pretty. Now go to sleep, I’m tired.”

Jaskier turns his back to Geralt, letting go of his hand – which he should’ve done way, way sooner, he realizes – but instead of rolling to his side of the bed, Geralt pulls him a bit closer and drapes one arm over him. They fall asleep like that.

\---

Geralt stays with him for the entire week. They leave together, following the road north.

\---

They’re in the middle of an open field, bedrolls so close together that their shoulders bump into each other every time they move. Above them glimmer a million stars. Jaskier thinks it might be midsummer night again, and he wonders if Ciri and Yennefer are at the beach right now, dancing around a colorful driftwood fire. He misses them, but at least he has Geralt, right next to him, staring at the night sky with him. He can’t believe that they’ve been travelling together for three months, spending almost every minute together without ever growing tired of each other.

“Look, a shooting star”, Jaskier points at it the second he spots it. “Make a wish, Geralt!”

“Hmm. I wish to travel with you for the rest of eternity.”, Geralt hums.

Jaskier chokes up at that. Some goblin part of his brain wants to just play it off as one of the dumb things Geralt just says without thinking and elbow him in the ribs, hard, for saying his wish out loud instead of wishing quietly, secretly, like a normal person. The bigger part of him, though, wants to kiss his witcher, who says stupid mushy things like this without even noticing what it does to Jaskier’s poor little heart.

He settles on doing neither. Instead, he turns to Geralt.

“That’s a nice wish. Do you really mean that?”

Geralt looks at him as if he was an idiot, and maybe he is, but he needs to know what this is between them. What they are.

“Of course I mean it. I learned my lesson about wishing for things you don’t truly mean, Jask.”

The nickname is new, something Geralt has started to use after he recovered from his concussion. Jaskier likes the way it creates even more familiarity between them. He swallows, takes a deep breath and forces himself to finally ask a question he’s wanted to ask so often he can’t even count anymore, yet never has, because he might be brave, but, contrary to popular belief, he’s not a fool. It’s only now, after sharing a life again for months, that he thinks the answer may be a yes. It’s worth the risk.

“In that case… I wish you’d kiss me. If you want to, that is.”

Geralt just stares at him, wide eyed, and for a second Jaskier is afraid that he misread everything and just fucked up spectacularly. But then Geralt leans over, closing the last bit of distance between them, and kisses him.

Jaskier kisses back immediately. He’s been waiting for this moment for over twenty years, and he can’t quite believe that this is actually happening, but Geralt feels so real, the slight scratch of his stubble against Jaskier’s face, the warm hands that wander to his waist. Jaskier puts his own arms around Geralt, one hand buried in his soft, white hair.

Eventually, they pull back again, but neither of them moves out of their tender embrace.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this”, Jaskier finally whispers.

“We should’ve done this weeks ago”, Geralt agrees, and Jaskier laughs. Of course, Geralt, that sweet idiot, would think this is a recent development.

“Geralt, you oaf. I’m talking about years.”

“In this case, I’m sorry for letting you wait that long. I didn’t know that we could have… all of this.”

Jaskier smiles, understanding that Geralt isn’t just talking about their kiss. ‘This’ includes the respect and the trust they share, and all the small conversations they had. If Jaskier had fucked Geralt right away, he doubts that they’d be that close now.

“I know. I don’t regret waiting, you know. It’s not like I had to save my virginity for you or anything.”

Geralt makes his best attempt at false surprise.

“You’re not a virgin, Jask? Oh, woe is me! And here I thought you were a pure flower!”

Jaskier snorts. “You’re an idiot, Geralt, but I love you, which probably makes me the actual idiot here.”

He stops. He hasn’t meant to say that, not so soon, but, well, it’s out now. Nothing he can do to take it back.

Geralt looks shocked for a moment, then he turns beet red and clears his throat. After a deep breath that Jaskier recognizes as Geralt trying to hype himself up for something – Jaskier prays its not a rejection – then he speaks up.

“I think… hmmm. I think I love you too.” It’s clear that he isn’t used to saying those words, and he might even look a bit surprised after saying it, as if he didn’t think he was capable of doing it.

Jaskier leans forward and kisses him again, saving both of them from any more awkward confessions.

\---

After that summer, Yennefer has a knowing smile on her face when they return. Geralt moves into Jaskier’s room with him. The following years, they leave together again, going where the Path will take them, but always returning back to their cottage and their friends by the equinox in fall. It’s a simple life, but a happy one.

They don’t know how long they’ll have together, but they cherish every day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! I can't believe that I've actually written this much, this started out as an idea for a one shot. Thank you @ everyone who sticked with this story until the end!
> 
> I'll probably post a chapter about them coming back home after they got together from Yennefer's PoV in the Bonus chapter collection sometime next week, but that's it.
> 
> you can always find me on [Tumblr](https://emotionalumami.tumblr.com) though!

**Author's Note:**

> So, i know that this isn't the best thing i've ever written, and probably not the best thing you've ever read either. trust me, i know. please refrain from giving constructive criticism anyway - i am not looking to improve my writing at the moment. the only reason i got back into writing recently is that i'm on new meds, which make me very shaky, and my sight kinda fuzzy, and also i'm fucking tired and still pretty sick and will be for the forseeable future, sdo all of my other hobbies are pretty much inaccesible to me right now. You can comment and talk to me and shit, just please keep in mind that i am not trying to get better at writing.


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